


Brotherhood

by montecarlos, princessrosberg



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, Blood, Brothers, Character Death, Death, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mafia -AU, Oral Sex, Russian Mafia, Sexual Content, Torture, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-29 12:38:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 37
Words: 72,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6375082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montecarlos/pseuds/montecarlos, https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessrosberg/pseuds/princessrosberg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blood makes you related. Loyalty makes you family. (or a collection of mafia related prompts)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Till death do us part [Dany/Carlos]

**Author's Note:**

> This is a late birthday present for my darling Sarah - I hope you enjoy sweetie!

When Carlos was told by his father that he was to be married off to a suitor of their choosing, he was first angry at his parents. It shouldn’t be up to them to decide who he was to marry; Carlos wanted to fall in love himself, have the freedom to date whoever he pleased, but that had been taken away from him the moment he was born. He didn’t want to be involved with the Spanish Mafia, but what choice did he have when his father was the boss?

“I’m sure the two of you will get along perfectly”

His father, Fernando had said, brushing his hand through his son's thick dark hair. He was the age of 16 when his father had said that, almost two years ago - and at the time Carlos thought it was an eternity away - but here he is, sat around a table with his family and his soon to be husband’s family.

* * *

 

“I’d like to make a toast, to my little brother who has finally reached the last step of becoming a man”

Carlos’ arm seems to move on its own as his fingers curl around the flute of champagne, raising it to clink the glass against the boy next to him. Carlos can’t even look at his fiance - at Daniil Kvyat - the vice captain of the Bratva, the man who is going to be his husband at the end of the month. He’s drawn from his thoughts when he feels a soft touch against his knee, Dany looks concerned when Carlos finally meets his gaze.

“Father may we be excused?”

Carlos glances over at his father in law - Sir Toto Horner-Wolff - and tries to force a smile onto his face.

“Of course son”

Toto nods once in acknowledgment, before he snaps his fingers. Carlos watches as Sebastian flinches slightly, trying to pay attention to what is happening as Dany gently holds his hand to pull him away. He only manages to catch the end of the sentence, but it’s enough to send chills down his spine.

“-make sure he doesn’t die”

* * *

 

“Are you okay Carlos?”   
Dany asks him the moment they enter the bedroom. Carlos is too distracted by the extravagance of it to reply; the bed is covered in black and white silken sheets, there’s a full length mirror across one of the walls and the city of Ufa shines brightly in the dark though the glass window. This is only the second time Carlos has been to Russia - the first on a business trip and now to move in with his fiance.    
“It’s beautiful isn’t it?”

Dany’s voice seems much softer now that they’re away from everyone, away from expectations and business. Carlos can only nod in response as he gazes across the city, admiring the twinkling lights and the sound of cars whizzing by. 

“I grew up in this city, and I have never once left it. My brother got to experience Australia, it's where he met the love of his life”

Dany pauses for a moment. 

“Sebastian was never forced to marry, he had the freedom yet I was forced into it”

Carlos can't help the small smile spread onto his lips. He watches Dany for a moment, watches the boy he is set to wed, the boy that will take his first kiss, his virginity. 

“I'm sorry about all this Carlos, i can tell you don't want to marry me but I just hope we can-” 

“Shh”

Carlos presses his finger against Dany's lips, looking deeply into the Hazel eyes that blink in confusion. 

“We have years to fall in love, but right now I could do with a good rest, what about you?” 

Carlos holds his hand out gently, it's a bold move on his part but from what he can see, Dany is in the same position of himself. Dany curls his fingers around Carlos’, holding them tightly in his hand as Carlos tugs him to the bed. 

“Yeah, sleep does sound good”

Surprisingly, Carlos sleeps well that night, with Dany's arm draped lightly around his waist.

* * *

 

Months pass, the wedding was over 8 weeks ago; Carlos has already killed his first man, already lost his virginity and given himself up to Dany. It isn't particularly horrible, Dany is nice and caring towards Carlos, he touches him gently and presses soft kisses on his forehead. But it still doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel right that this “love” was forced, that neither were given to chance to decide for themselves. Carlos lets out a quiet sigh and looks across the city, Dany hasn't been home for a few days - he said he was away on business and that he'd be back in 3 days - but now it's approaching the 6th day and even Dany's parents are worried. There's a knock at the door and a spark of happiness hits Carlos until he sees the reflection of Sebastian in the window. 

“You haven't been down in days Carlos, we're all starting to worry about you”

Sebastian starts, carefully padding across the bedroom towards Carlos. 

“Is Dany back yet?” 

Carlos says, ignoring the remark from his now brother in law, and instead keeps his gaze on the flashing lights of Russia. 

“Not yet, you know I'd tell you the moment he gets back” 

Sebastian sighs and gently places his hand on Carlos’ shoulder.

“He'll be back, don't worry” 

And Carlos believes him. 

* * *

 

Dany finally returns a week later with a gunshot wound to the shoulder and a suitcase full of money.

“I hate you”

The words Carlos say are barely a whisper, as he gently hits his fists against Dany's chest. Dany wraps his arms around the Spaniard, and a sense of security hits Carlos. “You left for almost 2 weeks, didn't call me once or even tell your own family you're okay, I thought I'd lost you Estrella”

Dany's arms tighten around Carlos’ body. 

“I didn't think you cared”

Carlos looks into Dany's soft Hazel eyes, sees the love and adoration in them, and he knows, as much as he despised this man for taking away his innocence and freedom - he loved him.

“Of course I care, you're my other half”

Carlos leans up to press a gentle kiss against Dany's lips; they're chapped from whatever hell he'd been through, but they're still Dany's. They pull away after just a few seconds, Dany has a soft smile on his face and almost looks dazed as he looks into Carlos’ eyes. 

“I love you”

Carlos lets out a surprised gasp. It's the first time Dany has expressed his love through words, he knew the Russian cared about him - what with how he'd snuggle up to Carlos in the middle of the night or spend an entire day playing with his soft hair and peppering him with kisses - but this is the first time of the two knowing each other that Dany had said he loved him. The words tumble out of Carlos’ mouth before he can think.

“I love you too”

* * *

 

“You're going away again?”

It's been 3 years since the two had met - Dany is 21 now, Sebastian has taken over the Bratva from their parents with his boyfriend by his side. 

“I have to Carlos, I'd bring you with me but you know I'd just worry, I'll be gone for 3 days”

“You promise?” 

Dany turns around from packing his small suitcase and heads over to the bed, holding Carlos’ cheeks in his hand and pressing a kiss against his lips. 

“I promise”

Dany replies with a smile. Carlos can only believe him as the Russian continues packing for his  _ trip _ . It's silent for a while, only the sound of clothes being folded films the room, until there's a quick and harsh knock at the door. Carlos hops off the bed, mumbling to Dany that he'd get it and opens it up to see Sebastian stood outside. He looks different from what Carlos remembers. His eyes aren't as soft as they used to be, his hair always seems to be messy and wet with sweat and the dark circles never seem to move from beneath his eyes. He offers Carlos a tired smile. 

“Dany are you almost ready? We're just waiting on you”

“Yeah hold on”

Sebastian nods in Dany's direction before leaving the two alone again. Carlos absently rubs at the band across his finger, the nerves of what Dany is about to do seemingly get the better of him; however it doesn't go unnoticed by Dany. 

“Don't worry Chili, I'll be back before you know it, I promised you right?” 

“Yeah, and you've never broken a promise yet”

“Exactly, don't worry about me, if anything worry about Sebastian he's the one more crazy than me” 

Dany places a final kiss on Carlos’ forehead before grabbing his suitcase and leaving the Spaniard alone in their bedroom. Carlos looks out of the window to the lot below, Sebastian is stood outside with Daniel by his side, the blood red Ferrari glistens underneath the autumn sunlight and he watches the 3 for a moment as they climb inside, before the engine roars and the car disappears. Carlos lets out a gentle sigh and rubs the band again. He already misses Dany.

* * *

 

“Carlos, calm down you're gonna hurt yourself”

The Spaniard doesn't listen to the Australian’s words and tugs on his hair harder. He knows what Daniel just said, he knows what happened just hours ago but he refuses to believe it. 

“Just tell me where he is, he must be hiding in the car or something”

Carlos mumbles, looking at Daniel with tears in his eyes. He doesn't know how the Australian can stay so strong. 

“Carlos, I know you don't want to hear it, I know you don't want to believe it but it's the hard truth, Dany's dead”

Carlos lets out another scream, smashing his head against the window to try and numb the pain in his heart. Realisation seems to hit him, and he looks at Daniel whose alone. 

“Where's Sebastian?” 

When he sees the pain in Daniel's eyes at the mention of the name, he already knows what happened. 

“He tried to protect me, he was already injured enough as it was but I couldn't stop him and-”

Daniel drops to his knees in front of Carlos, his tears slide down his cheeks and drop to the floor. Carlos forces his emotions back and roughly wipes away the tears from his eyes.

“And what happened with Dany?”

Daniel keeps his gaze away from Carlos, but he can still see the tears dripping from the Australian’s eyes. 

“There were more than we expected, it was supposed to be a simple ambush but we were outnumbered-”

“Was it over quick? Please tell me he didn't die suffering Daniel”

Daniel finally looks up at Carlos, a very small smile on his face, even though the tears still fall. 

“It was to the head, he wouldn't of felt any pain”

It's strange that knowing that makes Carlos feel better - his husband is dead and he doesn't even have the body to bury- but knowing it was over quick, that he wasn't in any pain, offers Carlos a small bit of comfort. 

“And what about…?” 

“He bled to death in my arms, and I couldn't do anything to save him”

Carlos squeezes his eyes shut, forces no more tears to fall, because he knows it's over, knows that the tears and cries won't do anything - won't bring Dany back. He spends the entire night curled up in bed wearing one of Dany's t-shirts.

* * *

 

When his parents find out they're quick to find another suitor. They find the son of an Australian drug lord - Mitch Evans. Under other circumstances Carlos would find himself becoming attracted to Mitch, he's got soft brown eyes and a killer smile, but it's not the same - he doesn’t feel the same as he did with Dany, doesn’t feel the same amount of love and care and happiness. He looks at the band that is now tied around his neck, the new one from Mitch is on his finger. It doesn’t take long for Carlos to make his decision, all he wants is to be back with Dany - to be able to curl up in his arms, to press kisses to him before he goes to bed, to hold his hand and make him breakfast. Fernando and Jenson get the news of their son's death a week later.


	2. Born Into the Business [Brocedes]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of how Lewis and Nico's lives became entwined together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarah (valentineskid) here!  
> Emma and I decided to pool together all of our Mafia/Bratva AUs into one place. 
> 
> Enjoy :)

Nico was born into the business, he was destined for this life. He was taught from a young age that he would be the head of his father’s empire. The gun was placed into his hands when he was eight for the first time, his innocence wrenched away from him. The training soon followed, hours of relentless training, both physical and mental to ensure that Nico would be strong enough to lead the empire. Keke knew that his time was short, he knew that the clock was slowly ticking down on his time, that his shadow was shortening, the other mobs were closing in.   
  
Nico was nineteen when his father was killed, it was planned from the very beginning, he was shot point-blank in the back of the head, blood still pooling over the contracts that he was going to sign that would have destroyed the Bratva branch. Nico remembers feeling numb as he attends his father’s funeral, with supporters and enemies alike, flanked by his bodyguards in one of his Hugo Boss suits. He watches the coffin - beautiful, dark mahogany lined with champagne coloured silk - glide into the church as he follows it with his mother clinging to his arm, sobbing. He’s the head of the empire now, he’s the one who must be strong and stoic, the one who must not show any sense of weakness. He remembers watching as the coffin is lowered into the ground, his face numb as he tosses the rose onto the dark wood and walks away. He has business to attend to, he has the empire to build up, to retain the loyalty of his father’s subjects.    
  


* * *

  
  
Mark Webber is such a subject - the head of the Australian branch of years, he’s like Nico in some ways, he was born into this lifestyle. He’s beautiful, dark hair, dark eyes, same unfeeling nature as his father, no chinks in his armour. Mark gives him a wide, white smile, holding his hand out for Nico to shake.    
  
“Nico, I’ve heard lots about you,”   
  
“And I have heard things about you,” Nico says. “I trust you have only brought your most loyal,”   
  
“I have,” Mark says, smiling. “They will not be joining us today. Please, sit down,” He says, sinking into his leather chair. “I’m sorry for the loss of your father. I wanted to come to the funeral but as you were aware, these events tend to invite danger,”   
  
“That’s quite alright,” Nico says softly.    
  
“I’m sure that you’ve read through the papers that your father left and are aware of the deal that existed between us,” Mark says smoothly as he pushes the papers forward.    
  
“I’m aware of the arrangement,” Nico says, barely glancing over the papers. “I wish to revise the deal,”   
  
Mark raises an eyebrow. “I’m listening, Nico,”   
  
“I heard that Ecclestone has been giving you a little trouble recently, that he’s been sending police onto your turf and affecting your business badly. We could get rid of him for you,”   
  
Mark laughs. “They will replace him with somebody equally as corrupt. I could easily get my best men on him if I wanted, all I would need to do is make one phone call,”   
  
“I understand,” Nico says, leaning back in his chair, he had anticipated Mark’s answer and therefore, had set in motion another plan. “There’s also the issue of Sebastian Vettel,”   
  
Nico smiles as he watches Mark stiffen. “You know where he is? It’s been months since any intel came back to me,”   
  
“I have my sources,” Nico says, his face still stony. “I know where he is and who has him. My father told me of your fondness for him, that he was taken from you before you had a chance to claim him as your partner,”   
  
Mark gazes at him with dark eyes. “Name your price Rosberg,”   
  


* * *

  
  
Nico is months away from his twenty-first birthday when he meets a man who changes everything. He’s asleep in bed, his hand ghosting over his platinum-plated pistol, ready for any strangers who come in the night. He hears footsteps, barely quiet ones and his fingers tighten around his gun, it feels warm and comforting against his hands as he hears the door creak open. He breathes in and out slowly, his fingers moving around the trigger of his gun as the footsteps move closer and closer. He spins around in between his sheets, gun never wavering as he levels it at the source of the noise. There’s a man dressed entirely in black, his own gun trained on Nico. It never wavers, his brown eyes look familiar somehow - Nico feels that he’s seen them before.   
  
“I always sleep with one eye open,” Nico whispers, his eyes narrowed, the gun is still.    
  
“Your guards do not,” The accent is clearly British. “You should have taken better care,”   
  
Nico doesn’t miss the past tense in the man’s words, as though he’s already gone. “Maybe I should, but I am not afraid to die,”   
  
“You surprise me,” The man says. “That you would not even care your life is about to end,”   
  
“I die with honour,” Nico says coldly, his gun still trained on the man. “You pull your trigger but you have a microsecond before you can pull again. I could shoot you in that time. You could survive but you wouldn’t be able to work for a while,”   
  
“You are perceptive,” The man notes.    
  
“Somebody has to be,” Nico says quietly. “I assume Mark sent you?”   
  
“He did, he said that you needed to be taken care of, that you were disposable,” The man says, his British accent becoming more and more familiar to Nico.    
  
“Strange for him to send a Brit to do his dirty work,” Nico says quietly, his eyes still on the man.    
  
The man stiffens for a moment, his eyes dark as they never leave Nico. “I do whatever Mr Webber asks,”   
  
“Did he tell you why he wants me dead? When did you start working for him?”   
  
The man worries his lip. “It’s not for me to ask why,” The gun starts to lower for a moment, before he realises he’s standing in front of one of the most dangerous men in the world. “I-”   
  
“You don’t recognise me, do you, Lewis?” Nico says, his smile is wide. “You don’t remember me from all those years ago,”    
  
“I, I’m here to kill you, not reminisce about memories,” The man - Lewis - says, his face paling as he worries his lip. “How do you know my name?”   
  
Nico moves closer, the barrel of the gun resting against his chest. “You don’t remember me?”   
  
“I-” Lewis begins, shaking his head. “Stop this, stop trying to get around this,”   
  
“You don’t remember me? We were about seven, it was the year before I began my training. I remember your father, he was one of my father’s most loyal men,”   
  
“Co?” Lewis says quietly, his eyes widening in realisation. “You never told me you were a Rosberg,”   
  
“You never asked,” Nico says. “Wasn’t your father killed a few years later?”   
  
“When I was ten,” Lewis says, lowering his gun ever so slightly. Nico notices he’s still holding onto it. “Mark was the one who took me in, he’s the one I owe everything to,”   
  
Nico snorts, his eyes still on the man before him. “Is that what he told you?”   
  
“He’s been like a father to me,” Lewis says, shaking his head. “He would never do something like that-”   
  
“He was the one who killed your father, Lewis. He wanted you to become his little bodyguard, to break up the empire you were supposed to inherit,”   
  
“No.” Lewis shakes his head, moving away from Nico. “You’re lying,” He snarls, the gun flickers back up to Nico, wavering slightly. “You’re fucking lying, Mark would never-”   
  
“He would,” Nico replies, his tone calm. “He did, Lewis, trust me. He killed your father, he took you away and trained you to become this assassin that would follow his orders without a second word, he made you become this,”   
  
“Liar,” Lewis snarls. “You’re nothing but a liar,”   
  
“I wouldn’t lie about this, Lewis. It was May 24th, 1995. Your father had just finished doing a job for my father, it was a big weapons contract that had passed hands over Mark’s territory. Your father had his own business, he specialised on assassination contracts. Mark decided that he wanted a cut of that, he tried to go into business with your father but it failed. Your father wasn’t having any of it, he knew what Mark was truly like. Mark was the one who killed your father, wanted to ensure the job was done properly,”   
  
Lewis shakes his head as Nico continues. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but it’s true, every word of it. He shot him, got his men to bundle you away half asleep, told you that he’d saved you and took over your father’s empire. He never told you what you stood to inherit,”   
  
“Why should I believe you?”   
  
“Because I want to help you recover it,” Nico says earnestly.    
  
Lewis slowly lowers his gun.   
  


* * *

  
  
Lewis is hesitant to trust him at first, hesitant to give himself up to Nico, hesitant to trust anyone ever again. But eventually, Nico watches him soften, watches him stop locking his bedroom door. Lewis stays within Nico’s mansion, sleeps fitfully, waits for the night that Mark Webber returns to kill off the last remaining tie to the Hamilton empire. He tosses and turns in between his rumpled sheets, crying out for his father. Nico ends up cradling Lewis against his chest, feeling the hot tears soak into his t-shirt, wishing for nothing but a bullet to place between Mark Webber’s eyes.    
  
“You’re safe with me,” He whispers against Lewis’s ear as the older man relaxes against him. “We’re going to get your empire back,” He thinks about when they finally retrieve the business from under Mark’s nose, he thinks about never seeing Lewis again and his fingers tighten around the limp form of the dark-skinned man. He dare not think about it, about the day that Lewis will no longer require his services, that he will no longer be needed.    
  
Lewis slowly falls back to sleep under his watchful eye.    
  


* * *

  
  
Nico finds himself worrying about the day that Lewis takes his rightful place as heir to his father’s empire, the day when he no longer needs Nico’s protection. He can sense it getting closer and closer, as Lewis seems to blossom under him - seems to be shaping into his own personality. It makes his chest hurt, thinking about Lewis no longer at his side, no longer in his bed. It’s not a sexual arrangement - Lewis can’t sleep unless Nico is in the bed next to him, his breathing evens out slowly, his hand still curled around the pistol. Old habits die hard.    
  


* * *

  
  
Nico is twenty two when Lewis kisses him for the first time. He’s just finished an extensive three day negotiation with Checo Perez regarding some new shipments into Mexico - it stretched over longer than Nico had intended, he’d told Lewis to wait at home for him, he didn’t want Mark finding out where his prized assassin had gotten to. Lewis had argued, pleaded with Nico to let him go too, asked Nico to consider it but Nico had held firm. He had cupped Lewis’s cheek with his hand, his fingers ghosting over the skin.    
  
“I need you to be safe,” He had whispered and Lewis had blinked, his tongue ghosting over his lips to wet them.    
  
However, he had stayed an extra few days, working out another deal with Checo. He’d forgotten about Lewis waiting at home for him, watching the clock, pacing the floor after another sleepless night. He’d been crawling the walls when Nico stumbles through the door, exhausted and jet-lagged. Nico feels the sting of Lewis’s hand against his cheek.    
  
“Lewis-” He begins, holding his cheek.    
  
“Where were you?” Lewis spits, his eyes dark.    
  
“Negotiating, I’m a little late I guess?”   
  
“Three days late,” Lewis says and Nico notices the dark circles under his eyes, his paling skin, how tired Lewis looks. “I thought that he’d killed you, Nico,”   
  
“I’m sorry,” Nico says, moving closer. “I’m so sorry,”   
  
“I just don’t know what I’d have done if you’d-” Lewis says, worrying his lip. “I’m sorry, I just, I-” Nico reaches up and cups his cheek, turning his face towards him, his green eyes locking with brown.    
  
“Nico, I-” Lewis begins as Nico’s finger dances over his skin before the younger man leans in, brushing their lips together. Nico tastes like blood and sweat but his lips are warm and they make Lewis’s chest feel like it’s on fire. He melts into the kiss, Nico’s calloused hand still cupping his cheek as their lips meet, their bodies tangle together.The kiss seems to last a lifetime, their lips finally move away as they look into each other’s eyes.    
  
“Lewis,” Nico whispers, the name caught on his lips.    
  
Lewis smiles back and in that moment, they forget about the violence, forget about the mob, forget about Lewis’s empire that they still need to obtain, the only thing that matters in that moment is themselves. Nico looks into Lewis’s eyes and knows that this is one partnership that will never expire, an empire that will grow and flourish as their relationship does. He pictures the empire they will build together, side by side as equals and he smiles as he pulls Lewis in for another kiss.    



	3. Nightmares [Sebastidan + Baby Max]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little ficlet about sebastidan and their child. I feel like this would happen a lot until Carlos is finally married off to the Bratva. Anyway I hope you all enjoy :) - Emma (princessrosberg)

" _Daniel_ "

He can hear someone's quiet voice, calling his name into the dark night. But he's too distracted by the blood across his hands, staining the white carpet and dripping down onto his clothes to pay attention. His heart is racing in his chest as he looks down at his son, his tiny body spread across the bed surrounded in blood, his lifeless blue eyes staring back at Daniel.

" _Dan!_ "

The voice is there again and he can feel a pressure on his arm, but there's no one beside him. He shuffles closer to the bed, his fingers brush against Max's cheek, drawing a streak of red across his pale skin. He takes in a breath and runs his fingers through Max's hair, the locks as soft as ever.

" _Daniel! Wake up!_ "

His eyes fly open in shock, Sebastian’s worried face the first thing he sees. His expression seems to settle slightly, a sigh of relief escapes his lips and Sebastian's arms curl around Daniel to pull him up into a sitting position. He glances down at his hands, now completely clean - there's no blood across them, and the silver band is still wrapped around his finger.

"Daniel? What happened?"

It takes him a moment to remember what happened, and the second he sees the blood in his mind, his sons blue eyes, he throws the sheets away from his body.

"Daniel wait!"

Sebastian reaches out and his fingers just brush Daniel's skin before he dashes out the bedroom, stumbling down the hallway to his sons room. He slams the door open and flicks the light on, sweat coating his entire body. The sheets move slightly, before his 5 year old son pops his head out from underneath them, eyes squinted shut from the sudden light. Daniel lets out a sigh of relief, sitting down on the edge of the bed and curling his arms around Max.

"You're okay"

He says, but it's more to comfort himself, because Max already knew he was okay, sleeping soundly in his bed without a worry. Sebastian appears in the doorway, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and glances towards his husband.

"Are you going to tell me what happened instead of disappearing like that?"

Sebastian says, heading over to Daniel. He takes the spare space next to him, brushing his hand through Max's hair in affection. Daniel doesn't reply, his grip still tight around his son as he tries to calm himself down. _It was just a dream_ he tells himself, but it had felt so real to him. He holds Max in his arms until he falls asleep again, keeping him tight against his chest as he carries him back to his own room with Sebastian. When he finally tucks Max into their bed, Sebastian speaks again.

"What happened love?"

Daniel wraps his arms around Sebastian and rests his head against his shoulder.

"It was Fernando, he-he killed our son Sebastian! He was dead on his bed and I was drenched in his blood and-"

"Shh, it's okay Daniel, it was just a dream"

Sebastian pulls him closer, presses kisses across his forehead.

"But what if it wasn't Sebastian? You know they hate your family, _our_ family, we need to settle peace with them before something like this does happen"

"Okay I'll sort something out, it's okay Daniel, you're safe with me"

Daniel finally feels his heart beat calming down at Sebastian’s soft touches, drawing patterns up and down his back. He lets Sebastian guide him back to their bed, pulling the covers over his body. His eyes feel heavy as he watches his son, looks at his sleeping face, a smile creeping up when Max snuggles closer against his chest. He feels Sebastian’s body against his back and his arm curls around Daniel's waist to hold him closer. He presses a kiss against the back of his neck.

"Sleep my little honey badger, you and Maxy are safe with me, I promise"

He can feel sleep taking him, Sebastian’s hand running up and down his skin making him more sleepy, and finally he drifts back off into a sleep, this time filled with nothing but his families smiling faces.


	4. Icebreaker [Carlos/Dany]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos has no choice but to give himself up to Dany on his father's orders. He fights the whole way, fights for his freedom, fights against the love he's forced to portray to the captain of the Bratva.  
> Or, the story of a forced marriage between two men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarah here! Just a small warning for thoughts of non-con/rape, but nothing of the sort happens. I really enjoyed working on this, it's been nice to write these two. Apologies if the Russian isn't perfect.
> 
> Enjoy! :)

It’s two months until Carlos’s sixteenth birthday when his father calls him into his office. He stops in the doorway, his dark eyes on the men standing in the room, the men who have threatened to take his life.  
  
“Papa-” He begins. He’s about to run away, when one of them seizes him by the bicep, his dark green-hazel eyes boring into Carlos.  
  
“It would not be wise for you to do that, Alonso,” He hisses, pulling Carlos back into the room. Carlos struggles against the man - slightly taller than him, but barely older than himself. He’s not seen this man before - his green-hazel eyes are fixed upon Carlos as he holds him steady, obviously unaffected by years of training.  
  
“Carlitos, please,” His father pipes up. He’s sitting in his leather chair, his expression is calm. His desk is covered in paperwork, his gun sitting on top of the papers. A flicker of worry crosses over his features as his son is brought back into the room. Carlos is wrestled into a chair, facing his father and silence descends on the room for a moment before it’s broken by a lilting British accent.  
  
“Well, well, little Carlos Alonso,” He says, smiling. “It’s been years since I last saw you. Haven’t you grown into a beautiful man?”  
  
“‘I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met,” Carlos says, fighting the urge to snarl back at the voice.  
  
The man moves out of the shadows - he’s pale skinned, dark haired, stubble dusting over his chin, his form encased in a black suit. He moves forward, his hand cupping Carlos’s chin and tilting his face up to meet his own. His eyes are the same shade of green-hazel as the man who grabbed him. Carlos is certain that this man is his father.  
  
“You will make a beautiful prize,” The man says, staring into his eyes. “Your father is foolish to let you go,”  
  
“I don’t understand,” Carlos begins as the man lets go of his face. “Papa, what’s going on-”  
  
“You are to be married, Carlitos,” His father says gravely.  
  
“To Mitchell, I know that already, Papa-”  
  
“No, son. The contracts have changed,” His father says, suddenly looking older than his forty years. “We must make new bonds with the Brotherhood to sustain the peace, Carlos. You are to be married to one of the Bratva,”  
  
“No,” Carlos begins, shaking his head. “Papa, no-”  
  
“I am sorry, my son,” His papa says quietly. “You are to marry one of the Bratva heirs within a few months,”  
  
“And if I refuse?” Carlos says, his dark eyes burning into his fathers. “What happens then?”  
  
“Then we kill all your family,” The man with the greenish-hazel eyes says, stepping forward. His eyes seem to burn through Carlos. “Kill your fathers, and then you,”  
  
“And which Bratva scum would you have me marry then?” Carlos says, meeting his father’s gaze. The father of the hazel-green eyed man steps forward, his hand meeting the younger’s shoulder, his eyes boring into Carlos.  
  
“You will marry my son, Daniil, Carlos Alonso,” He says, his gaze never wavering. “I am sure he will make a perfect husband for you,”  
  
“No, no, I refuse-” Carlos begins, moving to pull himself out of the chair but the man with the cold hazel-green eyes - Daniil, his future husband - catches him, his eyes emotionless as they gaze into Carlos’s.  
  
“You will marry me, Carlitos,” He vows, his hands tightening around Carlos as he struggles, tears falling down his cheeks. “It would be easier for you not to fight me-”  
  
“It would be easier for me not to marry a monster like you,” Carlos hisses, his voice wet.  
  
“You shouldn’t refer to your fiance in that way, Carlitos,” His father says, his voice controlled as he fights the urge to stand up, Christian’s gaze is trained on him.  
  
“He’s not my fiance, he never will be. I could never love him,” Carlos says, shoving past Daniil as he leaves the room, slamming the door behind him. Christian keeps his eyes on the head of the Galega.  
  
“Leave him for now. He will marry Daniil when he becomes of age. I will ensure that the union takes place,”  
  
“You know the prize if Carlos does not marry my son, Fernando-”  
  
“I do,” Fernando says, nodding as he glances over to the closed door and back to Christian’s son, Daniil Kvyat, the Captain of the Bratva, stands watching the door with stoic, emotionless eyes. Fernando doesn’t want his son tied to the Bratva and all the blood on their hands but he has no choice. Christian smiles at him for a moment, his cold hazel-green eyes boring into the leader of the Galega.  
  
“I guess we have a wedding to plan, Alonso,”  
  
Fernando makes a noise of agreement.  
  


* * *

  
  
Carlos smooths over the lapels of his suit, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He looks handsome, his hair gelled back from his face, his suit as black as night, the black tie tucked in carefully. Carlos resists the urge to laugh, the last time he wore the suit was for his grandfather’s funeral. It seems almost fitting that he should wear it to his own wedding, to signify the loss of his freedom. He knows that Christian has sent two guards to stand outside his door whilst he gets ready to pledge the rest of his life to a murderer. He takes a deep breath as he thinks about the rest of his life, thinks about waking up next to Daniil, having to give up his virginity to the Bratva captain. He’s not ready to do this.  
  
“Carlitos,” His father’s voice mutters outside the door. Carlos opens it and his father walks in wearing one of his pristine suits. His dark eyes fall on Carlos, his hand cupping his son’s cheek.  
  
“You look handsome today, Carlitos. I am proud of how well you have coped with this,”  
  
Carlos looks away, worrying his lip. “I’m not coping, Papa. Please, tell me I don’t have to marry him-”  
  
“Son,” His father whispers. “You know I cannot change the contract, no matter how much I want to,”  
  
“So I’m to marry a monster?” Carlos whispers, his mouth dry.  
  
“Daniil isn’t a monster, Carlos. He’s only sixteen, he’s not killed any man yet-”  
  
“But you’re forcing me to marry him? What about Mitch? What about what I want?”  
  
“You’re Galega, Carlos. You were never going to choose your own husband,” Fernando says calmly.  
  
“But you think that this murderer is a suitable husband for me?” Carlos says, worrying his lip, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “You don’t even know what he’s like,”  
  
“I know that he is a very loyal and good man, Carlitos. I could have given you up to a lesser man,”  
  
“You could have given me the decision,” Carlos argues as his father places a firm hand on his shoulder.  
  
“You will marry Daniil Kvyat, you will restore the honour and the peace of the Galega. If you do not, they will kill you Carlitos. There was no decision to be made,”  His father’s eyes - like his own - are dark with anger.  
  
“Only to sacrifice me for your own ends,” Carlos says darkly.  
  
“You were always going to have to give up your life, Carlitos. You were never going to be normal, not as the sole heir to my empire,” His father brushes a hand over his face, looking into his son’s eyes. “You will take Daniil’s name and your position by his side as his husband and that is final. Do not let me down, Carlitos,” He says, his tone gruff as his hand slides away and he stalks out of the room, leaving Carlos alone staring at his own reflection.  
  
He brushes away the tears that fall down his face as he stares at himself in the mirror, thoughts flooding his mind, thoughts of the day ahead, of Dany shoving the ring onto his finger, of Dany pressing him into the sheets and forcing him to - he shakes his head as he moves over to the dresser, pulling out the small knife hidden in the drawer. He tucks it in between his shirt lapels and smooths down his suit again, his expression stoic as he gazes at his reflection. He will have to take matters into his own hands.  


* * *

  
  
Carlos takes a deep breath as he walks up the aisle in silence, the faces seem to blur as he passes them. He never imagined his wedding day to be like this, his suit feels like it’s choking him, he feels like he’s been sentenced to death. His husband to be stands at the front of the altar, wearing the traditional Bratva captain uniform. He turns slightly to watch Carlos walk down the aisle, his coat, the colour of blood, stands out amongst the black and white of the crowds. The gold buttons on his coat gleam, his shashka sheathed by his side. He says nothing as Carlos moves to take his position at the side of him.  
  
“Let us begin,” The priest says, eyeing both men as they stand side by side. Carlos feels his heart beat faster against his ribcage as he glances at his new husband, at his blood-red coat shining softly in the light. The priest’s words seem to blur together as he takes a deep breath, the knife cold against his shirt.  
  
“Bratva means family. Carlos and Daniil will pledge themselves to one another, they will reunite in marriage and be faithful and loyal to one another until their marriage ends with the death of one of them,” The priest says, glancing between the two men. “Rings will be exchanged, vows made and the brands will be placed on the skin,”  
  
Carlos’s mouth goes dry. The ring feels heavy in his pocket.  
  
“Daniil, if you would, please,” The priest says as Dany produces a ring from the pocket of his coat. It’s simple, silver, it gleams in the light as he grasps Carlos’s hand in his own, his fingers icy as he glances into Carlos’s eyes, sliding the ring into place in utter silence. Carlos worries his lip as the ring runs over his finger, committing him to his fate. Dany’s eyes are cold and emotionless, his fingers letting go of Carlos’s as though the skin burns.  
  
“Carlos, your ring please-”  
  
Carlos hesitates for a moment, his hand moving to close over the small ring of metal in his pocket. He pauses, taking a deep breath, Dany’s dark eyes on him. He feels the brush of the metal from the knife as he looks into Dany’s eyes for a moment before he draws the knife, surging forward. However, before he can bury it in Dany’s chest, cold fingers wrap around his wrist, dark eyes boring into his own.  
  
Carlos feels the tears spring up in his eyes as Dany’s long white fingers wind around the blade and yank it from his fingers, his gaze unwielding.  
  
“Continue,” He says, his eyes still on Carlos.  
  
Carlos feels the hope fade away as the ring finds its way into his fingers, Dany’s hazel-green gaze unwavering as his shaking fingers push the ring onto Dany’s finger. The faces watching them seem to blur as Carlos takes in a deep breath. He feels trapped, helpless, worthless.  


* * *

  
Carlos hisses in pain as he staggers up to the bedroom, the brand that Dany placed on his skin is still aching, still sticking at his white shirt. The festivities of a Bratva wedding rarely last long - many of their guests were already leering at Carlos, elbowing Dany and remarking loudly that he must be looking forward to tonight, to taking Carlos’s virtue. Carlos finds himself sinking into a chair as he loosens his tie, pushing back his hair as he takes in a deep breath. He glances around at Dany’s bedroom, at the huge four poster bed taking up half the room, covered with soft blood-red covers of silk, the pillows piled high. There’s few personal effects in the room - there’s no photographs, no ornaments, nothing that shows a glimpse of Dany’s personality bar a few Russian books on the side.  
  
Carlos peels away his white shirt, hissing as the fibers yank away from the wound - the dark brand standing out against his dark skin, marking him out as one of _them_ , one of the Bratva. The door suddenly swings open and Dany strides through it, still wearing his Bratva uniform. Carlos stiffens, his eyes focused on his husband - it still feels strange to refer to the man as that. Dany moves closer, his eyes still emotionless as his pale fingers reach out to grab Carlos’s shirt. Carlos feels the surge of panic push through his chest. Dany is finally here to collect his prize, to take his virginity, whether Carlos wants it or not.  
  
“Please,” Carlos pleads. “Haven’t you taken enough from me today?”  
  
“Don’t struggle,” Dany says, shortly.  
  
“Don’t struggle? You’re about to take me against my will and you’re telling me not to fight this-”  
  
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Dany says, pushing Carlos down onto the bed. Carlos feels the panic dance over his chest, squeezing, aching, thinking only of Dany taking him against his will, he feels dizzy as he breathes in, tries to force oxygen into his lungs - “Please,” He whispers, hating how weak his voice sounds.  
  
“Breathe,” Dany’s voice cuts through the panic as Carlos feels him pull his shirt off, hissing again as it moves away from his wound. He struggles against Dany, crying out in pain and fear before cold fingers hold him in place, hazel-green eyes glance at him with something akin to worry. Carlos startles as Dany carefully begins to clean away the dried blood from the brand on his chest.  
  
“Why are you doing this?” Carlos says, tearful.  
  
“You’re hurt,” Dany says, his eyes on the wound. He works carefully, wiping away the blood from Carlos’s skin. “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to brand you so deep,”  
  
Carlos says nothing as his eyes remain on his husband. His fingers are cold against his skin, they feel like knives but his touch is gentle. Dany throws away the bloodied cloth before he carefully places some gauze over the brand, taping it into place before his eyes lock on Carlos’s once more.  
  
“Why are you doing this?” Carlos asks, his voice hoarse.  
  
“Because you’re my husband and I hurt you,” Dany says simply. “I’m not a monster, you know,”  
  
“I never-” Carlos begins.  
  
“You tried to kill me at our wedding, Carlos. I understand why you would want to do that, you didn’t want this marriage, you didn’t ask for this. But I’m not a bad person, I’m a human, just like you,” His fingers move to cup Carlos’s cheek gently. Carlos closes his eyes, braces himself for the inevitable. But it never comes. He opens his eyes glancing at his husband in confusion.  
  
“You’re not going to-?”  
  
Dany’s expression darkens. “I would never force myself on you, Carlitos, even if we are married. It would be dishonourable. We will consummate the marriage when you are ready. After all, we have years to do so,”  
  
“But you must, it is Bratva law,”  
  
“I can control myself. I am not taking you against your will,” Dany says once more, his finger dancing over Carlos’s cheek. “You are a beautiful man, that is one of the reasons I picked you. But it is not the only one, I needed someone who was strong and able to stand by my side, to be the husband I needed, the partner I needed to run the Bratva-”  
  
“You’ve got the wrong person,” Carlos says, shaking his head.  
  
“I do not believe so,” Dany says, his eyes still on Carlos. He takes in the dark circles under his husband’s eyes. “You must rest, муж . You are exhausted,”  
  
“I need to stay awake-” Carlos argues.  
  
Dany shakes his head, pulling back the sheets of his bed. He notices the flash of panic in Carlos’s eyes as the sheets move. “It’s okay,” He says, his fingers still ghosting over the tanned cheek. “It’s okay, I am not going to harm you,”  
  
Carlos sees something in Dany’s eyes, some shred of truth in the hazel-green pools as he’s guided into soft silk sheets. He’s still on edge as exhaustion begins to slowly take over his body, itching at his eyelids, dizziness setting in - his brand still aches, it’s still a reminder - as he sinks into a fitful sleep, his last thoughts of Dany’s hazel-green eyes. He never sees the same eyes full of concern, his new husband’s hand pressed over his sweaty brow, he never hears the curse in Russian. He feels Dany’s hand move away and the covers are pulled around him as he continues to sleep.  
  
“Sleep well, красивая,” He whispers into the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> муж - husband  
> красивая - beautiful


	5. Amado [Carlos/Max]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos wants revenge for being forced to marry one of the Bratva. Max just happens to be in the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarah here again! A bit of background for this one - Carlos was forced to marry Dany because they needed to unite their empires together. Sebastian was supposed to take up this mantle but fell in love with Dan and had Max. Warnings for blood and stabbing.
> 
> For my best friend Emma who has had a tough week and wanted fucked up Max!  
> Enjoy boo! :)

Max blinks open his eyes, groaning as the pain shoots through his body. He twists around, feeling the rough burn of the cable ties against his wrists, feels blood ooze from a cut somewhere up on his hairline, his mouth filled with the taste of metal, blood and salt. He coughs, cursing under his breath as he tries to piece together the last moments he was awake. He glances around the room, at the exposed pipes hanging from the ceiling, at the rotting planks of wood, at the sludge coating the floor and fights to pull the memories from his mind. But there’s nothing but a white haze before him - he remembers nothing but a pair of honey-brown eyes. Footsteps echo over the concrete floor and Max blinks up through the blood to see a beautiful man striding towards him.    
  
“Maximillian,” A familar voice, tinged with honey, speaks out.    
  
“Churro? It can’t be-” Max says, blinking once again, the blood still dripping down his face sluggishly. “I thought-”   
  
“Did you miss me, amado?” The voice says, moving closer. Max takes in the sight of the man, who used to be his best friend as a child, in a tight fitting navy suit, his long black curls pushed back from his face, honey brown eyes locked on the man in front of him.    
  
“Carlos, you-”   
  
“I’m different? I grew up, right? I became the person my father always wanted me to be,” Carlos says, his eyes seem to glitter. Max glances up at Carlos, blinking through the harsh sterile light, as a warm hand curves over his cheek. Honey brown eyes lock on his own blue ones. “Do you not like what you see?”   
  
“I thought you were dead,” Max says, his voice hoarse.    
  
“I did die in a way,” Carlos smiles, his fingers still dancing over Max’s face. “The old Carlos you know is no more, he died a long time ago,”   
  
“You promised you would never do this,” Max argues, twisting his hand away from the Spaniard’s touch. “You promised you would never become a monster,”   
  
“I killed people who threatened my family, you would do the same in my position,” Carlos says, his eyes seem to darken.    
  
“I’m not a murderer, not like you,” Max spits, his eyes still on the man he used to play with as a child, the chubby cheekbones and soft edges replaced by something else, something harder and rougher.    
  
“Murderer?” Carlos says, laughing. “Is that what you think of me?” He moves in closer, his tongue ghosting over his lips. “Do you hate me Maximillian?”   
  
“I couldn’t hate you,” Max admits as Carlos’s finger sweeps over his lip. The Spaniard leans in, brushing their lips together. Max feels the moan slide past his lips as Carlos’s lips move against his own, the warm tongue enveloping his own, Carlos’s hands slip over Max’s shirt, the other brushing carefully over his cheek. The kiss seems to last for an eternity, before Carlos pulls away, smiling widely, his tongue brushing over his lips as he gazes into Max’s eyes. “I missed that,” He says, the smile curving over his lips. “You’ve changed so much, I’m so sorry-”    
  
Max is about to ask Carlos what he means when he feels white-hot pain blossom through his side. He glances down to see the glint of a knife, the blade stained crimson, Carlos’s dark eyes glinting, his fingers wrapped around the blade.    
  
“Carlos, why-”   
  
“It’s nothing to do with you really,” Carlos says sweetly.   
  
Max gasps in pain, glances down at the wound, at the crimson blood spreading over his shirt and sucks in a breath. “I don’t understand...I thought, I thought you still cared-”   
  
“I do, amado,” Carlos says quietly. “I didn’t want to do this, but unfortunately, your daddy dearest forced my hand-”   
  
“What?” Max says, his eyes widening. “What did my dad do?”   
  
“Married your father, they had you...one perfect happy little family. But before you came along, your grandfather was worried that there was no heir to the Bratva, nobody to strengthen the name,”   
  
“You were Uncle Daniil’s husband,” Max whispers. “You were the one who betrayed him,”   
  
“I did nothing of the sort,” Carlos snaps, the knife still glinting in his hand. “He was the one who forced the ring on me, forced me into your family, forced me to have sex with him-”   
  
“You’re a liar. My uncle would never do such things-” Max hisses, his eyes glinting for a moment as he pulls at his bonds.    
  
“You know nothing, Ricciardo-Vettel,” Carlos says, flicking the knife between his fingers. “Your uncle is a monster, just as I am. Your entire family are monsters,”   
  
“Fuck you,” Max spits, his eyes narrowed. “My family are innocent in all of this, it was your father who condemned you to that life,”   
  
“It was your father, Maximillian. He didn’t keep his promise, he was off shagging that Aussie prick. You were never supposed to exist, he was supposed to marry Mark, they were supposed to rule the Bratva and the Cartel world together. But he fell in love with the wrong Australian-”   
  
“That’s hardly my fault. My father can’t control who he fell in love with,” Max says, his eyes locked on Carlos who moves in, the knife still grasped between his fingers. Max takes a deep breath as the cool blade dances against his cheek.    
  
“I could cut you open, make it so your father doesn’t recognise you,” Carlos purrs, his eyes dark. “I could destroy you, destroy your father,”   
  
“Carlos, please don’t do this,” Max begins only for the knife to gently brush against his lips as though to silence him.    
  
“Give me one good reason why,” Carlos says, the knife not wavering an inch. “Your family ruined my life,”   
  
“Because this isn’t who you are, you’re not a monster,” Max says, the tip of the blade inches from his skin, brown eyes still locked on him. “This isn’t who you ever were, I know you’re upset about marrying Dany-”   
  
“Don’t say his name,” Carlos snarls. “He’s nothing to me, I hate him, he ruined my life-” The knife disappears from view once more as Carlos leans in, his breath ghosting over Max’s cheek, his other hand brushing over Max’s chest. His eyes remain locked on Max’s as he leans in, pressing a kiss against Max’s cheek. “You know, I usually knew you always liked me,” He purrs against the pale skin.    
  
“Carlos, I-” Max begins as Carlos presses himself against him, his hands dancing over his skin, his lips leaving a trail down over his jawline. Max shakes his head, tries not to give in to the touches, tries to pretend he feels nothing as Carlos’s lips carefully trace over his skin. He feels his cock stir against his suit trousers, hissing in frustration as Carlos smirks against him, his hands moving down to rub against him. “Did you ever want this, Maxy? Were you jealous of your uncle fucking me? Taking my virginity? Did you want to be the one taking my virginity instead?”   
  
“No, I - he’s my uncle, you’re his husband-” Max argues, trying to push away Carlos’s hands, tries to fight against his bonds. “We can’t-”   
  
“Why?” Carlos says, cocking his head. “Don’t you find me attractive?” He purrs, his eyes are dark, they never leave Max as the Spaniard carefully unbuttons the first few buttons on his white shirt, exposing his tanned chest. Max feels his mouth go dry at the sight of the exposed skin. “Don’t you want to fuck me, Maximillian?”   
  
“No, Carlos, I-” Max says, shaking his head as Carlos’s lips brush over his cheek, his tongue tracing over the sinews of his pale neck. He stays still as the Spaniard’s tongue moves over his skin, the hands twisting into his suit. Max feels his cock press against his scratchy suit trousers as Carlos’s lips move over him, his hands tracing over every inch of skin. He can feel the knife brushing over his skin, rubbing against the wound that Carlos has already made, Carlos’s fingernails cut into his biceps, his teeth worrying over Max’s neck.   
  
Max hisses as Carlos’s teeth scrape over his skin. “Carlos, please listen to me, this is wrong-”   
  
“It doesn’t feel wrong,” Carlos says, nipping at Max’s neck. “Max, please-” He whispers, lips ghosting over the hollow of Max’s neck, Max sees the glint of the knife once more, prepares himself for the inevitable burst of pain. It blossoms over his abdomen once more, Carlos’s shining eyes glancing back at him as he pulls the knife away, blood dripping down his tanned skin. “Would you rather I hurt you?”   
  
Max doesn’t answer, he keeps his eyes trained on the bloody knife. He takes deep breaths, tries to ignore the blood dripping down from the wound. “Carlos, you don’t want to be this person, it’s not you,” He pleads. “Remember when we were children? When we said we’d never hurt each other? You’re not this cold-hearted murderer, I can see the real Carlos,”   
  
“You need to stop talking,” Carlos says, the knife drifting back up to brush over Max’s lips. “Maybe I should gag you,”   
  
“Carlos, listen to me,” Max whispers as the knife travels down over his body. He worries his lip as the blade cuts through the collar of his shirt, revealing his pale milky white collarbone to the Spaniard. Carlos smiles, licking his lips, the knife moving lower and lower. “Maybe I should cut your trousers away,” He says, his tongue pressing over Max’s cheek.    
  
“Churro, please. Dany didn’t ask to marry you either, please remember that. He was heartbroken when you left, cried for ages, sent people out to find you,” Max pleads as he feels the knife cut into his trousers, inches from his swollen cock.    
  
“You’re a good liar, Maximillian. I’ve give you that,” Carlos says, the knife moves away. Max takes a breath, only for a moan to be ragged from his lips as Carlos’s hand ghosts over his cock. “Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel better before I kill you,” He smirks, his fingers moving to knead at Max’s cock, eliciting a groan from the younger man.    
  
“Carlos, please, no-” He mutters, feeling the warmth spread through his abdomen, the wound is forgotten in that moment, Max can feel his fight pulling away from him. He grits his teeth, ignores the warmth, the pain for a moment, honey-brown eyes locked on him -    
  
A familiar voice echoes through the room. “Carlitos?”    
  
Carlos freezes, fear dancing over his features as his eyes turn towards the voice. Daniil stands in the doorway, glancing between Max still cable-tied to the bars and to his long-lost husband. He steps forward, his eyes wide with disbelief as he takes in Carlos, in his half unbuttoned shirt. He takes in Max, the blood pooling on the floor.   
  
“Carlos? Is that you? I thought you were dead-”   
  
Carlos drops the knife, looking pale. It rings against the floor, blood splatters decorating the concrete as brown eyes lock on hazel-green ones.   
  



	6. Broken Promises [Sebastidan + Max]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian breaks a promise, and that doesn't sit well with one Fernando Alonso.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Emma this time (Princessrosberg)  
> Okay so bit of background for you all, Sebastian was supposed to marry Mark so he could become the head of the Bratva but because he married Daniel instead the marriage got passed down to Dany, who in turn had to marry Carlos, the family that despise the Bratva. So this is revenge on Fernando's part really! Lots of blood and torture so just a warning. But other than that enjoy!

Sebastian slowly blinks his eyes open, the splitting headache becoming too much and forcing his body to wake up. However when he does regain his senses, he’s met with blackness instead of the usual scenery of his bedroom. He can feel something tied around his eyes, scratchy against his skin, and something binding his hands together. He hears soft footsteps circling around him, before a hand roughly tugs the piece of material away from around his eyes so he can finally see. There’s a man stood in front of him, dark brown hair gelled back and crisp black suit clinging to his body. It takes Sebastian a moment for him to realise just who is standing in front of him with a blade clasped between their fingertips.

“Fernan-”

Sebastian’s sentence is cut short when Fernando’s hand slaps against the side of his cheek, whipping his head painfully to the side.

“Did i say you could speak?”

Fernando spits, the softer voice that Sebastian was used to replaced by something much harsher. He bites his tongue and nods in response.

“ _ Good,  _ now that’s clear, we can get back to business”

Fernando twirls the knife between his fingers, almost as if to taunt Sebastian on what is to come. He doesn’t remember how he got here, the last thing he remembers was climbing into bed next to his husband -  _ Daniel. _

“Where is-”

Sebastian cries out in pain, the silver blade slices across the skin of his cheek, splitting his skin open

“I  _ said  _ you couldn’t speak, one more word Sebastian and i’ll kill you right now”

Fernando glares down at him, and Sebastian can only blink back in response, too scared to say or do anything. Fernando smiles, pulling out a white handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away the blood from the knife.

“Now you can answer, do you know why you’re here?”

Fernando says, turning around to walk away. Sebastian keeps his eyes trained on him, watching as he spins the knife between his fingers.

“No”

“Ah, well let me refresh your memory. You remember sweet old Mark don’t you? The lovely Australian that  _ you  _ was supposed to marry?”

“I-Yes?”

The blood trails down his face, he can taste it on his lip and feel the wetness soaking into his skin.

“Well, instead you decided to marry someone else, oh what was his name again?”

“Fernando, where is he?”

Fernando smirks and pulls out his mobile phone from his pocket to raise it to his ear. It’s silent for a moment before he can just about hear someone pick up on the other end.

“Hey sweetheart, he’s finally awake so you can bring our dear friend in now”

Fernando ends the call and slips his phone back into his pocket, heading back over to Sebastian and pressing the blade up against his throat.

“You better hope my husband is feeling generous, or your sweet Daniel dearest will be lucky to leave here alive”

The door swings open, and Sebastian feels his heart drop when he hears Daniel’s pained screams. Jenson’s hand is gripped tightly in his hair, his other holding a knife against his throat, coated in bright red blood. Tears drip down from his eyes, stinging the cut against his cheek as he keeps his eyes locked on Daniel. Jenson throws the Australian down into the chair beside Sebastian, forcing his arms around the back and tying thick rope around them.

“What the fuck do you want with us? What have we ever done to your family Fernando! I don’t-”

“I think it’s time we shut you up”

Jenson says as he forces a rag around Daniel’s mouth, it’s protests drowning into noise while he ties it around the back of his head. Sebastian can only watch through tear filled eyes, trying to offer his husband any form of comfort - though no comfort could make either feel better in this situation.

“He’s very loud isn’t he Sebastian? Bet he’s a good fuck if he screams that much”

Sebastian holds his tongue, he can see straight through Fernando’s act.

“Why am i here Fernando?”

He says, wincing when Fernando grabs his face between his hand, his thumb pressing against the cut across his cheek.

“Because it was you who ruined my son. If you were a good boy and listened to your father you wouldn’t be here, but an Alonso doesn’t let things go, we want our revenge for what you did”

Fernando grits his teeth as he speaks, glancing at the knife in his hand before Sebastian feels a sharp pain in his shoulder. He glances down and sees the blood staining his shirt, seeping through the white fabric to colour it bright red. Fernando twists the knife more, and all Sebastian can do is scream out until his lungs give in.

“But you’re lucky Sebastian”

He yanks the knife away from Sebastian, the grin still plastered across his face.

“Because you’re not going to suffer physical pain”

Sebastian is about to ask what Fernando means, confused by his statement, until he sees Jenson’s fingers curl around the baseball bat. His voice fails him, his  _ stop  _ just a soft whisper as Jenson raises the wooden bat and swings it around, knocking Daniel out instantly. He lets it slip from his fingertips, the wood clattering against the concrete floor, and instead pulls out a small knife, the sharp blade glistening slightly.

“Leave him alone, it’s me who ruined you not him”

Sebastian says weakly. Fernando glances at him over his shoulder and rolls his eyes, pulling a rag from his pocket and forcing it between his lips.

“We know, that’s why we’re going to destroy you. What should i do to him Sebastian? I could cut this pretty little face up”

Jenson taunts, pressing the knife against Daniel’s cheek and running it down to his neck, blood following in its tracks. His forehead is already bruising from the bat, dark and purple against his tanned skin, and all Sebastian can think is how  _ wrong  _ this looks. He eventually squeezes his eyes shut, tries to ignore the sound of the knife slashing against his husbands skin. The noise eventually stops, but Sebastian is too scared to open his eyes, too scared to accept what might have happened, until an ear piercing scream fills the room - one that he would recognize anywhere -  _ Max. _

When he does open his eyes, his son is on his knees in front of him, the boy behind him so familiar to him.

“Hello Sebastian, how’s my husband doing? Does he miss me?”

“ _ Carlos,  _ let go of my son,  _ now” _

Sebastian growls. It had almost broke him seeing Daniel so hurt - but he knew how strong his husband was, that he was stronger than anyone else - however Max isn’t, and seeing him on his knees, bloodied hands tied together and his wails filling his ears,  _ does  _ break him.

“But why Sebastian? We’ve roughed you up a bit, done a little more to Daniel, and now i think it’s time our little Maximilian gets a taste, don’t you?”

“You lay one finger on him and i’m going to fucking murder you”

The knife slashes against Sebastian’s other cheek as Fernando’s fingers grasp at the back of his neck, and this time the pain doesn’t seem to be there, he’s too worried for his son to feel anything.

“He may be your son, but Carlos is mine, so watch what you say”

Fernando whispers, before roughly letting go of Sebastian’s neck. Sebastian looks down at his son and keeps his gaze on his scared blue eyes.

“Hey, just look at me Maxy, you’re okay, my parents are gonna get us out of this i promise, you just have to stay strong for me okay?”

Sebastian says softly, trying to keep himself calm for the sake of his son.

“Ah yes, the Horner-Wolff’s, the bastards that ruined my life. Hey maybe i can fuck them up instead, you’d rather it be them than your sweet little innocent son wouldn’t you?”

Carlos curls his fingers into Max’s hair and forces his head backwards to look at him, the knife just dancing across his pale skin.

“Because he does have  _ such  _ a pretty face, i wouldn’t of been so angry if i had to marry him, he looks like he’d be good at taking cock”

“Stop it! Stop talking about my son! You’re a sick fuck Carlos, and so are your god damn family!”

Sebastian screams, the anger soon taking over the calm facade he’d put on - he can’t hold it in much longer. Carlos’ smile drops down into a snarl, the knife drifts down to rest against Max’s throat, and he presses down slightly to draw a speck of blood. Sebastian tries to fight against his bonds, tears streaming down his face as Carlos continues to drag the knife along his sons throat, blood slowly sliding down to stain his pale skin.

“I’m gonna murder you with my own  _ fucking  _ hands Carlos!”

Before he can reply however, a loud ringing fills his ears, and he looks about in confusion until the soft hazel eyes of his dad suddenly appear in his vision. He can see his mouth moving rapidly, but his ears are still ringing and he can’t work out anything Christian is saying. He can feel his shaking hands trying to pull the binds away, can see Toto bundling Daniel up in his arms, but no one is helping his son, who’s still shaking on the floor with the knife against his throat before it all happens so fast. He lets out the most ear piercing scream when the blood pours down Max’s neck, when his blue eyes glance at Sebastian one more time before they flutter shut and he drops to the floor. It becomes too much for Sebastian - the pain from his own wounds and the pain from his family - and his vision goes black before he too passes out in his dad’s arms.

* * *

Sebastian jolts awake in bed, grasping at the sheets and panting heavily. A soft touch presses him back down onto the pillows, and when Sebastian turns his head to see who’s there, he lets out a sigh of relief.

“ _ Dany _ , i’ve never been more glad to see you”

Sebastian whispers, his voice quiet and hoarse. His younger brother smiles down at him, gently brushing his hair away from his face.

“And i’ve never been more glad to see you awake”

Dany replies, pulling himself away from the chair to sit down on the edge of Sebastian’s bed. Sebastian lifts his hand slightly to curl around Dany’s, squeezing softly in reassurance.

“What happened with-”

“They’re dead, Carlos is here because it’s my duty to kill him, not our parents”

At the sound of the Spaniard’s name, the memories come rushing back to Sebastian, and he jolts up from the bed once more, shaking as he throws the sheets away from his body. He places his feet on the floor and tries to stand up, but the exhaustion takes its toll and he drops down to his knees.

“Seb stop, you’re too weak what’s wrong?”

“What happened to him? Where’s my son?”

Sebastian whispers, glancing up to look at his brother as he helps him to his feet.

“He’s okay, they both are”

“I want to see him, i want to see Max and then you’re gonna take me to Daniel”

“ _ Sebastian,  _ you’re not-”

“Dany!”

His brother eventually gives in with a sigh, curling his arm around Sebastian’s waist to help him up. His body is aching all over and his face is stinging, the stitches still fresh against his skin. A form of comfort hits him when he slowly walks through the hallways of his home, the marble floor cold against his feet. Dany reaches out to push open the door, the wood creaking slightly before Sebastian steps inside. Max’s eyes are closed, his chest rising and falling slightly, and that alone is enough to comfort Sebastian -  _ he’s okay.  _ Dany gently places him down on the edge of the bed, and nods slightly at him.   
  
“I’ll be outside, call me when you’re done”   
  
He says before leaving Sebastian alone once more. He looks over at his son’s face, only the dark bruise across his cheek is out of place - he pretends the blood stained bandage isn’t wrapped around his neck. Sebastian lifts his son’s hand to curl around his own, careful to not jolt the needle that’s buried under his skin or the drip that’s slowly replacing the lost blood. He places his other hand against Max’s cheek, gently running his thumb across the soft skin.   
  
“This is my fault Maxy, if i’d of just listened to what my dad had said we wouldn’t of been in this mess, you and Daniel wouldn’t of suffered”   
  
He whispers, tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes. Sebastian stays there for a while, watching over his son and rubbing his thumb back and forth across his cheek. It feels like an eternity, but soon he feels Max move slightly, and his eyes flutter before slowly opening. Sebastian burst into a smile, the tears falling, but this time in happiness. He leans down and presses a kiss against Max’s forehead.   
  
“You’re okay baby, you’re back home and safe i promise”    
  
Sebastian whispers, holding Max close for a while until he eventually has to let go.    
  
“I love you”   
  
He pulls himself up from the bed, his body now starting to become strong enough to hold himself up and heads over to the door, quietly closing it behind him. Dany smiles at him and curls his arm around his waist once more.   
  
“When i’m with Daniel, i want you to stay with Max okay?”   
  
“Of course”   
  
Dany helps him down to the room at the bottom of the hall, opening up the door and leaving Sebastian inside. Christian is sat by Daniel’s bedside, holding onto his hand with his head resting against the bed.   
  
“Dad? Is he okay?”   
  
Christian lifts his head and glances over at Sebastian, his eyes dark and tired, and he nods slightly.   
  
“He’s asleep, he was asking for you so i stayed until he fell asleep”   
  
Christian let’s go of Daniel’s hand and pulls himself up from the chair, heading over to Sebastian to pull him into a hug.   
  
“I’m just so glad you’re okay, all of you”   
  
Christian kisses Sebastian’s head before leaving him alone with his sleeping husband. He sits down on the edge of the bed, pressing himself as close to Daniel as he can and looks over his sleeping face. There’s now a bump where the bat had hit, almost black against his tanned skin, and his entire face is covered in cuts and stitches. Sebastian sighs, closing his eyes as tears once again form in the corner of his eyes. He doesn’t speak this time, and instead rests his head against Daniel’s chest to listen to his heartbeat, the soft rhythmic beating calming his nerves. The pain is starting to worsen the more he wakes up, his shoulder is burning and his cheeks are stinging, all he wants is for it to stop. It’s starting to lull him to sleep, the sound becoming more and more comforting in his ear, and he feels Daniel’s fingers curl around his arm before he drifts off into a sleep. He can still hear Daniel’s heartbeat, still feel his soft hands against his own skin as he falls in and out of sleep, but that’s okay because his family are okay, they’re  _ home.  _


	7. The Code [Carlos/Dany] [Carlos/Mitch]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos breaks the Bratva code and disappears from Dany's side. However, it doesn't take long for the man who used to be involved in the Cartel to find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarah here! A bit of background on this: Carlos and Dany have been married for approximately six months and have consummated the marriage. In this particular version of the Bratva code, it is forbidden for a couple who are married to ever have sexual relations with anyone but their spouse. If the code is broken, the offending person can be killed. 
> 
> A big sorry to Lewis who is probably going to kill me :)

“Carlos?” Max knocks once on the Spaniard’s bedroom door, only to be greeted by silence. He frowns once and knocks again, the sharp rap echoing through the quiet corridor, the knock of knuckles against heavy oak.    
  
“Carlos?” He calls out again, his hand stretching down towards the handle.   
  
He knows that he shouldn’t open the door, that he shouldn’t go to Carlos alone but he wants to see the young Spaniard once more. His fingers wrap around the door handle and he twists the door open, taking a deep breath, ready for Carlos to storm out of the shadows berating him. But Carlos doesn’t appear. Max steps inside the room apprehensively, his eyes moving around the darkened room before him - he wonders if Carlos is asleep, if he’s retired to bed early - but he stops as he takes in the open window before him, the curtains slowly fluttering in the breeze. The room is empty. Carlos is gone.    
  
“Shit,” Max whispers under his breath in Russian as he takes in the sight of the bed, empty, not slept in, the drapes still dancing in the evening air.    
  
Max doesn’t remember much after that moment, after the drapes still dancing in the breeze - he remembers a deep breath, a gasp of air, before he had stumbled out into the corridor, remembers wide brown eyes and the smell of earthy cologne, remembers his mouth forming around the words “Carlos is gone,”, remembers the panic spreading over Dan’s handsome face. He tries to tell Daniel not to tell Dany, not to tell him in that moment, but Daniel’s face is too pale, too worried as he gently brushes Max out of the way. Max watches him leave, notices the smears of dried blood on his hands as he disappears.    
  


* * *

  
  
“He’s gone? Gone where?” Dany hisses, his eyes darkening with anger.    
  
He’s livid. Max hears the scream that tears itself from his lips as he hears the heavy footsteps into Carlos’s room. He watches the young man tear the room apart before his eyes. Pale fingers tear down the paintings, rip open the sheets on Carlos’s bed, glass is smashed, every single item is upturned as Dany searches for any clue as to where his husband is gone. It lasts about fifteen minutes, Dany becoming more and more frenzied, his teeth bared like a wolf as he tears apart Carlos’s room. Dan watches from the doorway, his face turned in a neutral expression, his lip slightly bloody from the worrying.    
  
“It’s not here,” Dany says finally, turning his dark eyes on Dan, panting.    
  
“What isn’t?” Dan replies, keeping his voice soft and quiet.    
  
“The ring, his wedding ring,” Dany says quietly, his fingers moving to his own ring circled around his finger. “He would have taken it off if he’d left of his own accord,”   
  
“Daniil-” Dan begins, looking down at the blood dripping from Dany’s fingers, at his haunting hazel-green fingers.    
  
“He can’t have left me, I thought, I thought we were getting somewhere-” Dany says, shaking his head, a familiar photo held in his hands - it’s a photograph of himself and Carlos on their wedding day. Their expressions are false, expected of an arranged marriage, but Dany thinks about the last few weeks - about him taking Carlos at the shooting range, how warm his smile was as Dany’s hand curled over his shoulder, guiding him into position. He thinks about when they had finally decided to have sex, for Carlos to give him his virginity, he remembers how beautiful Carlos looked as he pressed him into the sheets, his brown eyes dark with desire, his mouth slightly parted, his hair falling into his eyes.    
  
“He can’t-” Dany repeats, his eyes on the photograph, the room destroyed around him. “He can’t leave me,” He says defiantly, his face hardening, his hand wrapped around the photograph.    
  
“ младший брат?” A familiar voice pipes up, slightly hoarse. Dany looks up into the worried blue eyes of his elder brother.    
  


* * *

  
  
Sebastian is angry, angrier than Max has ever seen the older heir to the Bratva, he crouches in front of his brother, gently cleaning the blood away from his fingers. Dany doesn’t look up, doesn’t even flinch as the cloth dances over his hand, the glittering pieces of glass still sticking into his pale skin. He looks broken, lost - Sebastian’s pale blue eyes gloss over his brother in worry as he gently works to clean away the blood.    
  
“What happened?” He says softly, eyes still on Dany.    
  
“He’s gone, Seb. Somebody’s taken him,” His hazel-green eyes lock on Sebastian who opens his mouth to argue. “No, he didn’t leave his ring, he didn’t leave of his own will, I know he wouldn’t,”   
  
“Dany,” Sebastian says, his thumb tracing over his brother’s wrist. “We have to exercise all options,”   
  
Dany’s eyes turn cold. “I know my husband, Seb. I know he wouldn’t leave me, he can’t leave me. He’s bound to me forever,”   
  
Sebastian nods but there’s something in his eyes, something that makes him doubt his little brother’s words. Dany glances at his brother. “You think he’s gone...you think he left-”    
  
“Dany, I don’t know anything at this stage-” Sebastian begins as Dany stands up and brushes away his brother’s hands, striding through the mess of his and Carlos’s bedroom, his features distorted with anger, his jaw clenched.    
  


* * *

  
  
The door is pushed open, rattling on its hinges as Dany strides into the room, his eyes wild, his hair mussed as he stops in front of his father’s desk. Christian looks up into his son’s eyes and sighs heavily, putting out the cigarette in the crystal ashtray.    
  
“Daniil,” He says as way of a greeting.    
  
“He’s gone, father,” Dany says in Russian, his voice tight and controlled. “He’s disappeared,”   
  
“Then you know the rules, my son,” Christian replies, his eyes - the same hazel-green as Dany’s, bore into the young man. “You must kill him,”   
  
“I’m not killing my husband, father,” Dany snaps back, his eyes dark.    
  
“He’s broken the code of Bratva, Daniil,” Christian says crisply. “He was told that he could never leave your side without your permission,”   
  
“He left without his ring, father,” Dany argues. “If he was planning to leave me, he would have taken off his ring,”   
  
Christian leans back in his chair, his face stoic and emotionless. “Fine, I will organise a search for Alonso, but if it’s proven he left you of his own free will, we will have no choice, Daniil. The integrity of the Bratva comes before everything else. Is that clear?”   
  
“Crystal, Father,” Dany replies, looking down at the ring still glinting on his finger.    
  


* * *

  
  
A few days pass, Christian’s men scour the city for any sign of Carlos, they check all the other groups operating in the area but the Spaniard seems to have vanished without a trace. Dany seems to get paler and paler, his face expressionless, his fingers dance over the ring on his finger. He knows Carlos is still out there, that Carlos is still alive. On the fifth day however, Max makes a gruesome discovery at an abandoned warehouse a few miles out of their territory. Carlos’s wedding ring sits in a pool of blood, the silver glinting lazily in the dim light, it’s edge painted crimson. Max hands the ring over to Dany who gazes at it with sadness, his hand moving to clasp around the small ring of metal.    
  
“Dany, I-”   
  
“He’s alive,” Dany whispers, looking down at the ring. “This is a set up, there’s approximately one pint of blood spilt on the floor here, the ring is lying in the middle of it,”   
  
“Dany, you have to consider-”   
  
“He wouldn’t leave me, Max, he’s Bratva now. He knows the rules,”   
  
“What if your father has already had him killed?”   
  
“Don’t speak like that,” Dany scolds, his hand still clasped around the ring.    
  
The next time Max sees the ring is around Dany’s neck, close to his heart. Dany doesn’t mention it again, he continues to search for his husband, continues to hope that he’s still alive. Christian withdraws his men after two weeks, unable to keep searching for the Spaniard, the trail after the bloody ring runs cold. Max watches Dany grow paler, grow thinner, his hand curving around the chain around his neck as he continues to devote his time to searching for his missing husband.    
  


* * *

  
  
A tanned fist knocks on a familiar door on the outskirts of town. The man pulls his leather jacket closer around himself, shivering slightly in the icy rain. The door is slowly opened by a familiar young man, wearing a look of surprise on his face and a telltale bruise on his collarbone.    
  
“Hello, Mitchell,” Daniel says shortly, adjusting his jacket. “May I come in?”   
  
“Now isn’t a good time-” Mitch begins, moving to close the door in Daniel’s face. But Daniel is quick and shoves his foot in front of the door, stopping the young man from closing it completely. Mitch’s honey brown eyes are wide with shock as Daniel smiles widely, the corners of his mouth stretching out.    
  
“He’s here isn’t he?” Daniel says, trying to keep his voice calm. “He’s been with you this entire time,”   
  
“He’s not here, Daniel. Haven’t you and your crazy family antagonised me and my family enough recently?”    
  
Daniel ignores Mitch’s protests and brushes away the young man from the door, stepping into the Webber mansion, eyeing the expensive chandelier glowing away in the entrance hall. “Why don’t I believe you, Mitchell?    
  
“Daniel, I think you need to leave,” Mitch says, darkly. “If my father finds you here-”   
  
“I’m not leaving, Mitchell. I know he’s here, I know that he gave you that mark on your collarbone,” Daniel snaps, glaring at the young heir to the cartel.    
  
Mitch glances down at the dark mark on his tanned skin, blush dancing over his cheeks for a moment before he shakes his head. “He’s not here, Ricciardo,”   
  
“Liar,” Daniel hisses as he brushes past the young Kiwi, stomping up the stairs, ignoring the protests in his ear.   
  
He’s been to the Webber mansion several times before, knows exactly where Mark’s bedroom is, knows exactly where the heir to the cartel empire’s bedroom is. He pauses for a moment outside the door, ignoring Mitch’s protests still in his ear, pushing open the door. He steps into the room, breathing heavily, as he takes in the sight of a familiar figure wrapped in the bedsheets, eyes wide as they focus on him. There’s a bruise on his tanned skin and his lips are swollen.    
  
“Hello, Carlos,” Daniel says gravely.    
  


* * *

  
  
“You shouldn’t be here,” Carlos says, hiding his tanned skin under one of Mitch’s silky robes as he glares at Daniel. “How did you even find me?”   
  
“You weren’t difficult to locate. The stunt you pulled with your wedding ring was the biggest indicator, I knew that the Webbers had just dealt in the blood business recently,” Daniel says, calmly.    
  
“You know I can never go back right?” Carlos cuts in, glancing down at his bare ring finger, the strip of skin where the ring used to be is pale compared to the rest of his skin. “I can never go back to Daniil, I have broken the Bratva code,”   
  
“You have slept with him already?” Daniel says, his tone is one of contained anger. “The sheets on Daniil’s bed aren’t even cold yet,”   
  
“It’s the only way to break the code,” Carlos sneers, his eyes hard and unfeeling. “The only way to get out of this sham of a marriage. I’m impure now,  _ he _ will not want to touch me now,”   
  
“You’re being foolish, Alonso-Kvyat,” Daniel spits back, his voice filled with anger. “You know you’ve just signed your death warrant?”   
  
“Don’t call me that,” Carlos says. “I’m prepared to take that risk. Go back to your dearest husband and tell him that I’m still alive, break your darling Daniil’s heart. Make sure you tell him that Mitch was amazing in bed-” He pauses as Daniel’s fist moves to grab the robe. Daniel’s eyes flash dark as he glances into the dark brown eyes of the heir of the Galega empire.    
  
“Don’t you dare, Carlitos. You might be under cartel protection, but Daniil will find you,” He spits, rage sticking to every word.    
  
“I think you better leave now, Ricciardo,” Carlos says, his eyes dangerously dark.    
  


* * *

  
  
Dany is on his way up to bed when he passes by his brother’s bedroom, he hears the familiar sounds of ruffling sheets, of his brother moaning, Daniel’s lips connecting with his neck. He turns away, the pain slamming into his chest, his fingers fiddling with the ring still wrapped around his neck when suddenly he hears Carlos’s name suddenly filling the air.   
  
“What do you mean he’s still alive?” He hears Sebastian hiss. “What the fuck, Daniel?”  
  
“I met him the other day, I didn’t want to say anything, not since - he broke the code, Seb. I didn’t want to break Dany’s heart,”  
  
“The poor kid has been worrying himself stupid for weeks and you knew where the fucking Alonso bastard was, Daniel. How can you justify yourself?”  
  
“Because Carlos has broken the Bratva marriage code, Seb.” Daniel hisses, his voice lowering. “It would break Dany to know that,”  
  
Sebastian swears quietly in Russian. “That bastard. I will kill him,”  
  
“No you won’t,” Daniel cuts in quietly. “It will be for Daniil to kill him,”   
  
There’s silence for a moment. Daniil leans against the wall, as he hears the familiar sound of his brother kissing Daniel once more, the breathly sighs hang in his ears as tears spring up on his cheeks. He thinks about his husband in bed with someone else, someone else’s lips on Carlos’s body, someone else been intimate with Carlos - he doesn’t realise that his nails have cut into his palms, drawing blood. He catches the flash of his silver wedding ring and clenches his jaw.   
  
He will win Carlos back, at any cost. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> младший брат - little brother


	8. The Heir's lie [The Bratva Family]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I made Christian a shitty father and destroyed Sebastian. Do enjoy as always :)

Sebastian takes in a deep breath as he debates whether this really is a good idea. He'd spoken to his younger brother about it, asked if this would only end in tears and heartbreak or if their father really did need to know - of course Dany had said the latter. He raises his hand again, rests it on the thick wooden door and lingers for a moment, before pushing them open. Christian glances up from his glasses, a soft smile across his face as Sebastian closes the door behind him and takes a seat on the chair in front of Christian.  
  
"Sebastian, what can I do for you?"  
  
His father says, eyes drifting back down to the papers spread across the desk. Sebastian doesn't take much notice of what Christian is doing, his pen scribbles across the paper rapidly.  
  
"Father, I have something important that needs to be made known"  
  
Sebastian says, his voice slightly stern in the hopes his Father will understand. Thankfully he does, and Christian pulls his glasses away from his face and places his pen down on the desk.  
  
"Go on?"  
  
Sebastian takes in a deep breath. He thinks about the brown eyes, the tanned skin and dark hair, before he finally gives in.  
  
"I have another son"  
  
He can't read his father's expression, there's a look of shock there, maybe disappointment, but the lack of reaction worries him.  
  
"Elaborate"  
  
Christian says, waving his hand to emphasise his point. Sebastian swallows nervously.  
  
"Mitchell is my son. When I was 19 he was born, but it was in both mine and Mark's best interest to keep him away"  
  
Sebastian bites his lip, preparing himself for whatever reaction his Father might have - he's always been the unpredictable one. He makes a sound of surprise when Christian's hand smacks against the side of his cheek, the sheer force knocking his head to the side, his skin stinging bright red.  
  
"Liar"  
  
His Father snarls down at him, fingers curling around the desk as he stares Sebastian down.  
  
"Father why would I lie?"  
  
"I don't know Sebastian, but he is /not/ your son, because if he is that means you've not only lied to your family for the past 17 years, but also hidden away the true heir to our empire. My son would /never/ do that"  
  
Sebastian lets out a shaky breath - he knew this was a bad idea, but his brother had given him enough encouragement for him to actually do this - but right now, Sebastian wishes he'd kept his mouth shut.  
  
"And where is your proof? Present me with his birth certificate and dna tests, then I'll believe you, until then Sebastian you're a liar, and we don't take kindly to those, family or not. Now leave"  
  
Sebastian leaves without another word, the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

 

* * *

  
"He didn't believe you?"  
  
Sebastian sighs quietly, cuddling up closer against his husband who's gently running his fingers across Sebastian’s back.  
  
"Of course not, who would? I mean he hardly looks like me, not like Max anyway"  
  
Sebastian closes his eyes, his hand tightens around Daniel's own. Daniel doesn't say anything, and Sebastian's thankful for that, the comforting touches are enough to keep him calm. He thinks about the last time he saw Mitch, a photograph from a few months ago of his brown eyes and thick dark hair - so much like Mark's - and it hurts that no matter where he looks, there isn't the slightest bit of him in Mitch.  
  
"Shh, stop thinking, we'll figure something out I promise"  
  
Daniel's voice is soothing in his ear, and Sebastian can feel himself slowly being lulled to sleep. He thinks about his son's - about Mitch and Max - the day that they'll finally be able to meet, the day he can tell Mitch he's his Father and fix their broken relationship. He falls asleep with a gentle smile on his face.

 

* * *

  
Sebastian fiddles with the mobile in his hand, his thumb lingering across the name of his ex boyfriend. He wants to call Mark, to ask him for the birth certificate and for him to get the dna checks, but he knows Mark's answer, that he'll refuse and end the call instantly. Sebastian throws his worries out the window and taps the name before he can think anymore. It rings a few times, before the familiar Australian accent picks up on the other end.  
  
"Come to ask for more favours Sebastian?"  
  
Mark teases on the other end, but there's a light hint of amusement in his voice.  
  
"Um, i have actually, it's about Mitchell"  
  
"What about him?"  
  
Marks amusing tone drops at the sound of their sons name.  
  
"My father won't believe that he's my - /our/ son, not unless I present him with dna and I can't hide it any longer Mark, it's not fair on him or Max for that matter"  
  
Its quiet for a while, Sebastian pulls the photo away to check the call is still going, before Mark sighs on the other end, ultimately in defeat.  
  
"You're right, I hate agreeing with you but you're right. I'll send them over in the next few days, but I expect repayment after this, after all the Bratva always pay their debts right?"  
  
"Anything, name whatever you want and you can have it. Thank you Mark"  
  
"When I think of a suitable prize I'll be on the phone again, goodbye Sebastian"  
  
Mark ends the call before Sebastian can speak again, and he furrows his brows slightly in confusion. All he can do is pray that Mark really will send the documents over, the simple sheets of paper that prove the blood lino between himself and Mitch. He slips his phone back into his pocket with a soft sigh.

 

* * *

  
Sebastian drops the papers down on his father's desk three days later without a word. The dna is a 100% match against Sebastian’s, his name enscribed in black ink on the birth certificate. Christian looks over the papers, Sebastian has his arms folded across his chest, glancing down at his Father who's knuckles are soon turning white. He whips his head up, eyes filled with anger and betrayal, and Sebastian knows what is going to come, what will happen to him for lying.  
  
"He is not to know of this, your son can not know of his brother"  
  
"But father-"  
  
"Enough Sebastian! You've lied to the family for years and you expect to have a say in this? Who knows"  
  
Sebastian doesn't reply, his gaze dropping down to the floor. Christian's arms grab at his shirt sleeves to slam him against the wall, Sebastian flinches slightly when his back smacks against the brick.  
  
"I said who knows!"  
  
He's never seen his father so angry, and for him to be the source of this anger scares him even more.  
  
"Dany was the first to know, Daniel knows too"  
  
Christian takes in a deep breath, biting his lip to hold his tongue before letting go of Sebastian.  
  
"Come with me, you know what your punishment is, but as I am your Father I can't issue it"  
  
Sebastian swallows hard. He can already feel the pain across his back of what is to come, of the leather whip that's waiting for him.  
  
"Your brother will instead"

 

* * *

  
"Dad please! I can't do that to my own brother, isn't there-"  
  
"Dany, you're still one of our heirs, so you must take your duty and do this for the sake of our family"  
  
"For the family? What is this going to achieve dad!"  
  
"It'll teach him to not lie to us again"  
  
Sebastian lets out a sigh as he listens to his Father and brother bickering behind him, his hands are chained around the wooden stake in the middle of the room, his shirt discarded somewhere on the floor and his back exposed. His muscles are already tensing to prepare for the pain to come. He hears footsteps behind him, feels soft fingers rest against his shoulder and Sebastian glances around to see his brothers sad smile, his tear filled eyes.  
  
"I love you Seb"  
  
Dany whispers, his thumb brushing against Sebastian’s cheek. Sebastian smiles in response, leaning slightly into the touch.  
  
"I love you too Dany"  
  
Sebastian nods at his brother, to tell him that he's ready, and he turns his head to rest it against the wood, eyes sliding shut.  
  
"Sebastian Ricciardo-Vettel, you're here by sentenced to 20 lashings, 10 for lying to your family and 10 for hiding the heir of the Bratva. Daniil, you may begin"  
  
Its silent, the only sound Sebastian’s breathing, before he hears the whip crack against his skin and he screams out in agony. The blood is already sliding down his back, the skin broken and irritated, and it only becomes more painful. Tears stream down his cheeks, he soon loses his voice from screaming so loud and he can hear Dany's own cries above his own. It feels like forever until the whips finally stop, but with how agonising the pain is, another few lashes wouldn't make a difference. He blinks away the tears, crying out again when someone bundles their arms around him, another person unfastening the handcuffs from around his wrists. Sebastian manages to focus on the person in front of him, the bright blue eyes so like his own stare back at him.  
  
"I did it for your brother"  
  
The words tumble out of Sebastian’s mouth before the pain becomes too much and he falls unconscious into his son's grasp.

 

* * *

  
The horrendous pain wakes him up from his sleep. His head is buried amongst the pillows and he turns to the side slightly, having no energy to move the rest of his body. He smiles when Daniel's soft brown eyes are the first thing he sees, his ever present smile across his face.  
  
"Hey baby, how you feeling?"

Daniel whispers, brushing Sebastian’s hair away from his face. He groans in response, trying to shift into a more comfortable position but eventually gives up and settles back down on his front.

"Absolutely awful. Where's Max?"

Daniel's smile drops slightly, but he tries his best to hide it.

"He's with your dad"

"Does he know about?"

"Yes. You told him before you passed out, and lets say your dad is far from happy"

Sebastian groans and closes his eyes, the gentle touches from Daniel not enough to calm him this time.

"It'll be okay Seb, he'll understand I'm sure, he has to. They're your son's"

Sebastian smiles slightly, the thoughts of his son's first meeting etched into his mind as he falls into another light sleep, Daniel's hand still rubbing against his soft skin.

 

 


	9. Hush, Don't Speak [Mitch/Max]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max exacts revenge on Mitch for breaking the Bratva code.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarah here! This chapter is certainly a departure from my usual work. Warnings for knife play and asphyxiation, both feature very heavily in this piece. I should also point out this piece has an incestuous angle as Mitch and Max are half brothers, but they are unaware of this fact. So warning for that too.
> 
> Enjoy!

“What the fuck have you done?” The rough Russian accent cuts through the air. “What the fuck were you thinking bringing that traitor here?”    
  
“He was the one your darling husband broke the code with,” The other spits, his blue eyes dark with anger. “He’s the one who needs to die,”   
  
“You brought Webber’s son here, Maximillian. Are you trying to ignite a war?”   
  
“But Dany, he and Carlos-”   
  
“I am aware of that fact, Maximillian. But that is my issue to deal with, not yours,” Dany says crisply. Max catches a glimpse of the silver ring on Dany’s finger. “You should have never taken him. You just brought this issue to everyone’s attention, Maximilian. Everyone will know my husband, the future consort of the Bratva is impure and unclean,”   
  
“But I-” Max begins.    
  
“I will clear up your mess this time,” Dany says calmly, his eyes emotionless. “Do not expect me to be so lenient next time,”   
  
“Very well, Daniil. I’m sorry,”    
  


* * *

  
  
Mitch wakes up slightly groggy, his hands tied above him, the cool steel of the handcuffs biting into his tanned skin. The bedsheets are soft against his back. He jerks awake, realising he’s only wearing his white Calvin Klein boxers - the air is cold against his bare skin and he jiggles his hands around in the handcuffs, wondering who he decided to fuck last night. He doesn’t remember much - it’s mostly a blur - he remembers a handsome dark-haired man passing him a colourful drink. However, after that, things go a little dark - he glances around the room but it’s strangely bare. There’s no photographs around, there’s nothing on the walls, the bedsheets are a deep shade of red - there’s something unsettling about the room. Mitch pulls again at the handcuffs, gritting his teeth.    
  
“Mitchell Webber,” A wavering voice pipes up.    
  
Mitch slowly pauses, his dark eyes glancing over to where the voice is coming from. A young boy, no older than eighteen, steps forward. He’s wearing a navy suit, cut to perfection, his dark hair is combed back from his face, his blue eyes burn into him.     
  
“Who are you?” Mitch asks, brow furrowed with confusion.    
  
“It’s me who asks the questions,” The boy says, smiling widely. “I bet you’re wondering why you’re here?”   
  
“I guess you could say that, gorgeous,” Mitch says, smiling back. “Aren’t you going to untie me?”   
  
The boy moves closer. Mitch catches sight of the knife clasped loosely in his hands, it shines in the dim light. “That would ruin all the fun, Mitchell,”   
  
Mitch tries not to allow the smile fall from his face at the sight of the knife. “What kind of fun? I’m not really into knifeplay-”   
  
The boy’s smile widens as he moves closer, the knife is steady as he traces it gently over the soft skin on Mitch’s left cheek. “See, I’ve heard you’ll do anything,”   
  
Mitch doesn’t reply as the tip of the knife dances down to his lip, the blade is cold against his skin as the boy carefully prises apart his lips with his knife. “I’ve heard you will do anyone,”   
  
“Well, within reason of course,” Mitch jokes but the tip of the knife presses against his lips once more silencing him.    
  
“I’ve heard enough of your words,” The boy says, his eyes are emotionless. “I should cut out your tongue, then you can’t sweet-talk your way into another bed,”   
  
Mitch stays silent as the boy presses the knife past his lips, the cool steel swirls over his tongue, tracing every inch. Mitch pulls on his cuffs as the tip gently nips at the corner of his mouth, the steel mapping over the soft flesh. The dark haired boy withdraws the knife, slowly, carefully, his blue eyes - they look familiar to Mitch - as he glances down at the knife, at the small drop of blood clinging to the metal. Mitch watches the boy’s tongue snake out of his mouth and catch the droplet of blood, the crimson clings to his lip before he moves the knife away, his eyes locking on Mitch.    
  
“You taste delicious,” The brunette says, smiling as the knife moves back to trace down over Mitch’s neck. “You know if I cut you here,” He says, the blade of the knife digging into his tanned skin. “You would bleed out within three minutes, your death would be painless,” The knife dances over to where his brand is - the black W is stark against his skin.   
  
“I could cut this out of your body,” He says, the tip of the knife tracing over the lines.    
  
“You know what I am then,” Mitch says, quietly. His eyes follow the blade as it moves lower, a thin line cutting into his chest. “You could kill me within seconds if you cut me there,” He says, his eyes dark. “Unfortunately, your knife is a few inches too short to penetrate my chest wall, but I assume a quick death isn’t on the agenda,”   
  
“Very good,” The boy says, the knife pressing harder into the skin, the thin line deepening as the thin line of blood dances down over his chest. Mitch bites his lip - the cut is nothing compared to the bullets he’s been shot with, the shrapnel was particularly fucking painful - but it’s the man’s dark eyes that hurt, that seem to cut him to the bone. “But you’re right, I just want to make you suffer,”   
  
“Why?” Mitch asks, confused. “What have I done?”   
  
The boy doesn’t reply, the knife moves lower, tracing over his bellybutton, following the curve of his hipbones. Mitch takes in a deep breath, his eyes still locked on the blue ones before him. He’s so focused on the sharp point of the knife, cutting open his skin slowly, slicing it just enough - he gasps as the boy’s lips close over his own. The kiss isn’t a pleasant one though, it’s rough and it hurts - the dark haired boy bites down on his lips hard and Mitch feels the blood dance over his lips, the metallic taste sinks into his tongue. The boy’s lips crush his own, his teeth bite down on his lip, sucking away the blood from Mitch’s mouth.    
  
His tongue presses its way into Mitch’s mouth, exploring every inch. Mitch feels the curl of warmth press over his thigh as the boy’s tongue slips over his own, only to feel a sharp pain in his abdomen. He gasps against the brunette’s mouth but tries to ignore the pain spreading over his lower body, their tongues still pressing against one another, the boy’s hand fisted in his hair before another blossom of pain cuts through the warmth once more. Mitch rips his lips away, gasping out in pain, he glances down to see the knife that was once tracing over his skin still held in the boy’s hand, covered in blood. He notices the wetness, sees the blood pooling into the sheets. He gasps but no words come out as the dark haired boy smiles, pressing the knife tip against his lips, the blood sticks to Mitch’s lips.    
  
“You deserved that, Mitchell,” The brunette whispers, the knife tracing over the curve of the Kiwi’s lips.    
  
Mitch tries to lick his drying lips, his hair is falling into his face as he bites back a low guttural moan, the knife dances away, down over his shoulder. He bites back a gasp as the boy traces the W on his shoulder with the blade, blood blossoming up from his tanned skin. Mitch tries to pull away from his bonds as the knife traces over every inch of his body - the boy makes several small cuts up his arms - they’re deep enough to leave an ache, but not enough to kill him. He bites back another moan as the knife cuts into his skin, deeper this time, the blood spilling down in a hot stream down over his ribs. The dark haired boy’s eyes are dark - almost ebony - as he twists the knife back and forth as though he’s painting a crude painting.    
  
“Fuck-” Mitch bites back as the knife moves down, the cool steel resting against his clothed cock. He glances into the blue eyes, frozen with fear as the blade doesn’t move - stays pressed against his cock.   
  
“I could cut it off, you’d probably go into shock and die,” The ooy says, smiling, his lips brushing over Mitch’s bloody cheek. “I could, you know,” He says before he captures Mitch’s lips once more - the kiss is more gentle this time, it’s softer and sloppy, the boy’s teeth bite down on Mitch’s lip once more but the thread of pain is nothing compared to the cuts, still wet with blood. The cuffs still rub against Mitch’s wrists. He whines against the boy’s lips as he feels the steel move away from his cock, he feels the curl of relief dance through his chest before the man pulls away, his lips still slick with saliva.    
  
Mitch feels brave and surges forward, his hands closing around the boy’s chest - he digs his nails in as hard as he can, limited by the metal circling his wrists. However, the boy just smiles and rips him away, Mitch’s fingers come away with nothing but a couple of buttons and a thin strip of material from the man’s shirt. Mitch’s eyes come in contact with a familiar brand burnt into the pale skin, the mark of a Bratva heir.    
  
“You-” Mitch whispers hoarsely. “You’re-”   
  
“You shouldn’t have done that, Mitchell,” The boy smirks, smiling as he drops the knife. His fingers gently dance over Mitch’s cheek, the blood smearing over his face before they move down to ghost over his neck. Mitch takes a deep breath, not breaking eye contact as the man’s hands close around his neck. He feels the tug, feels the warmth of the brunette’s fingers closing over his warm skin and struggles against the touch.    
  
“Don’t struggle,” The boy orders but Mitch struggles more, feels the skin rub away from his cuffed wrists, fights against the fingers but the boy’s hands tighten around him. Dark blue eyes stare into him as his thumb presses over the hollow of Mitch’s neck. “It’s okay, I’ll make sure to make this as enjoyable as possible for you,” The smirk presses at the corners of his lips again. Mitch feels dizziness dance in the corners of his eyes as he tries to take in deep breaths, the fingers still wrapped around his throat. He can feel every beat of his heart, his body seems to tingle, the blood pouring from his wounds seems to slow to a trickle as he gasps for air, tries to take in gulps of air but nothing happens - the fingers tighten more, he scrambles, his fingers scraping at the boy’s arms but to no avail. He feels the dizziness sink in, his tongue feels three times the size it usually is, he can hear ringing over his own pained breaths, can see the stars in his peripheral vision, tiny bursts of light that seem to vanish as he sinks into the sight of dark blue eyes watching him, he can feel his eyelids falling just as he hears another voice fill the silence.    
  
“Max, what the fuck-” The voice says, it drifts above Mitch, with the stars. Mitch opens his eyes, the ringing still fills his ears, he feels groggy, numbed by the pain as he sees a familiar figure within the room, the man who was in the photograph that Carlos had shown him. _Dany_ , he remembers, Carlos’s husband. He lifts his head slightly to gaze at the man who possesses the man he loves but he’s too weak, he lays down against the pillows.    
  
“What the fuck did you do?”   
  
“I did what was necessary,” The boy - Max - snarls as he climbs off the bed and picks up the knife, twisting it between his fingers.    
  
“I told you to leave him to me,” Dany spits back.    
  
“Why are you such a coward Daniil? This man fucked your husband, this man was intimate with Carlos and you sit by and do nothing to stop him. Why?”   
  
“There’s things you don’t know, Maximillian,” Dany says, his eyes icy.    
  
“Like what? What kind of things are you willing to protect me from now? He fucked your husband, Daniil. It was he who was in your bed, making love to Carlos, kissing his lips, marking him as his own, why would you protect someone like that?”   
  
“He’s family,” Dany screams and the room becomes silent.    
  
“What?” Max spits dangerously. “He’s not family, he would never be-”   
  
“He’s your _brother_ , Maximillian. Mitchell is your brother,” Dany hisses in Russian.   
  
The knife drops from Max’s fingers as his face pales, his eyes move back to where Mitch is still gasping for breath on the bed, still bloody and bruised. 


	10. My Boy [Seb/Mark] [Baby Mitch]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visitor from the past walks back into Mark's life. He's not happy to see the visitor, not since he's hiding a secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarah here! This is the first fic I've written introducing Mark into this universe. The backstory to this story is that Mark and Sebastian used to be together years ago. However, Sebastian walked away from Mark five years ago, not knowing that he'd left behind a son, Mitchell. Mitchell was born after Sebastian left. 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

“Hello?” A small voice pipes up down the receiver. Sebastian furrows his brow, his fingers ghosting over the bullet wound in his side. He doesn’t remember Mark having anyone young in his cartel, certainly not as young as the boy on the other end of the phone sounds.    
  
“I need Mark,” Sebastian says, the blood dripping through his fingers. “I need Mark,”   
  
“Daddy?” The voice says again. “You need my daddy?”   
  
“Yes, yes I do,” Sebastian says, feeling his patience wear thin, he can feel the blood oozing down his new shirt, the one he had bought only a few weeks ago. “I need to speak to Mark now,”   
  
“You didn’t say please,” The voice pipes up - the accent is Australian almost, it reminds Sebastian of Mark’s own silky smooth accent, the one he had fallen in love with all those years ago.    
  
Sebastian sighs heavily. “Okay, okay, please may I talk to Mark?”   
  
However, the voice is gone. The dial tone rings through Sebastian’s ear. He curses and hangs up, his fingers pressing against his wound.    
  


* * *

  
  
Sebastian smiles as the lock finally yields to his curved lock-pick and the door slowly creaks open. It’s dark inside Mark’s apartment, it’s been years since he last set foot in here, over five years in fact - everything is as he remembers. He glances over at the photographs on the wall - the one of himself and Mark when they were younger still hangs in the same place. He finds his way into the lounge - the couch has changed, it’s a big one that hangs in the corner, black leather, very tasteful. His glance finds a few toys littering the floor and he raises an eyebrow in surprise - he wonders if Mark has had his nephews over. He moves towards the mantlepiece, his eyes barely making out the photographs before him - there’s one of Mark with a small dark-haired boy, the shape of his eyes is familiar to Sebastian. He picks up the photo and examines it carefully. He’s never seen the boy before. Mark is holding him tightly, smiling widely, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It’s unnerving how much the child looks like Mark, but Sebastian would know if Mark had had a child -    
  
A soft sound catches on the silence and Sebastian whips around, the photograph still clasped in his hand, his other is still clamped over his wound which is still bleeding sluggishly.    
  
“I never thought you’d be back here,” A familiar Australian voice pipes up.   
  
The room is bathed in soft light.  Sebastian looks down into the familiar brown eyes, the ones he used to love all those years ago. Mark has barely aged, still looks the same as he did five years ago when Sebastian decided to leave, to walk away from the man he loved.    
  
"Mark," Sebastian says quietly, his mouth moving around the name. His fingers are still grasping at the wound on his side, pain still flickering through his abdomen.  "Mark, I-" he begins as a curl of pain digs deep and he feels himself pitch forward.    
  
He doesn't hit the floor though, he's met by calloused hands and warm brown eyes gazing down at him. "Mark-"   
  
"Why aren't you with Daniel?" Mark cuts in, his eyes on the blood still slipping down Sebastian's t-shirt. "Where is he?”   
  
“I didn’t want to worry him,” Sebastian says, carefully. He takes in a deep breath, his fingers still covered with blood. “I just...I thought you would help me. I didn’t want Max to see me like this-” He feels Mark tense up against him. “Mark?” He turns his blue eyes towards the man he used to love.    
  
“Fair enough,” Mark says between gritted teeth. “What happened?”   
  
“Perez,” Sebastian says, feeling slightly dazed as he feels Mark’s cool fingers peel away his t-shirt, flinching as the cotton fibres peel away from the wound. “Shot me a few times, said I’d be better off dead, I think he was dealing with the Triad,”   
  
“Sounds dangerous,” Mark says as he moves away to go and find his first aid kit. “What are you doing getting involved with Perez? You know he operates on my turf,”   
  
“It was nothing,” Sebastian waves his hand away in dismissal, his eyes downcast. “It’s just...some other business,”   
  
“Seb,” Mark says, looking up at the blonde as he begins to swab the area. “You’re Bratva, don’t you think you have your fingers in enough pies?”   
  
“The Triad threatened Max,” Sebastian says, eyes narrowed. “They threatened to kill him because he’s the heir of the Bratva. He’s two years old, Mark,”   
  
Mark grits his teeth as he works to carefully wash away the blood on Sebastian’s side. “You’ve barely been nicked, might need a stitch or two though,”   
  
“Are you still angry at me?” Sebastian asks as he watches Mark thread one of the surgical needles with an expert hand.   
  
“For what?” Mark asks, his voice guarded.   
  
“For leaving,” Sebastian says, his eyes locked on Mark. “I mean, I don’t know if you’re still angry over what happened-” He keeps his gaze on Mark, the Australian man’s lips are pursed and he’s strangely silent. “Mark-” He begins only to hiss in pain when Mark stabs the needle into his wound. “Mark, please-”   
  
“I’m not talking about this, Sebastian,” Mark says in a tight voice.    
  
“But you’re still angry about it-” Sebastian interrupts.    
  
“Do you expect me not to be?” Mark says as he stabs the needle through Sebastian’s skin. “Do you expect me to just welcome you with open arms after what you did?”   
  
“Mark, you have to understand. I thought you didn’t love me anymore, I thought you never wanted to marry me,” Sebastian says, wincing as the needle tugs on his skin. “My father...he said you didn’t want to be Bratva,”   
  
“I always loved you, Seb,” Mark whispers, the needle stilling. “I never stopped loving you, even after everything that happened-” He finishes off the last stitch, tying off the ends of the surgical thread as he tries not to look up into Sebastian’s dark blue eyes. “I will always love you, in spite of everything-”   
  
Sebastian opens his mouth to reply when another smaller voice pipes up in the background. “Daddy?”   
  
Mark freezes, the needle still clutched in between his fingers, his tanned skin pales at the sound of the voice. Sebastian looks up into familiar brown eyes. A small dark-haired boy, the same one as the one in the photograph stands in the doorway, clutching a small toy Kiwi. Sebastian takes in the sight of his fluffy dark hair, his brown eyes, so similar to the ones he used to gaze into and the tanned skin and realises that this must be Mark’s son.    
  
“Mitchell,” Mark says, his tone firm. “You need to go back to sleep,”   
  
“But you woke me up, Daddy,” Mitchell says, rubbing his eyes with one tiny hand. “I can’t sleep now,”   
  
“Mitchell,” Mark says once more. “Go back up to bed, I’ll come and tuck you in in a minute,”   
  
Mitchell, however, does not listen and moves closer, still clutching his toy Kiwi. His eyes widen as he takes in Sebastian and the blood smeared across his chest. “You’re hurt,” He says, his thumb moving to slip into his mouth. “Did the bad men hurt you?”   
  
Sebastian bites his lip. “You could say that, I suppose,”   
  
“And my daddy is helping you?” Mitchell says, still sucking on his thumb. “My daddy helps the good guys, sort of like Batman does,” He wrinkles his nose and Sebastian feels familiarity slam into him at the action. “You are a good guy aren’t you?”   
  
“I am,” Sebastian says, sitting up and wincing as he pulls on his new stitches. “But listen, your dad has lots more good guys to help out right?”   
  
The tiny dark-haired boy nods.    
  
“So your dad can’t help them if you aren’t tucked up in bed safe can he?” Sebastian says.    
  
“I don’t need to be safe, Mister. I’m five, I can handle myself!” Mitchell says, his thumb moving out of his mouth as he looks defiant, his eyes boring into Sebastian. “I’m a big boy now!”   
  
_ I’m five. _ Five years old. Sebastian feels a jolt of something in his chest as he thinks back to the dates, Mitch must have been born just after Sebastian had left. He pastes on a smile for the young boy. “Of course you are,” Sebastian says. “But even big boys need their rest,”   
  
“They do?” Mitchell says, an eyebrow raised.    
  
“Of course they do, they need to rest so they can catch lots of bad guys,” Sebastian says, smoothly.    
  
“Okay, Mitchell, it’s bed time,” Mark cuts in, grabbing hold of the young boy and sweeping him into his arms. “It’s way past your bedtime,” He scolds softly, as he stands up and walks over to the open door. However, Mitch struggles against his father’s hold, wriggling around in his arms.    
  
“Wait, Daddy!” He protests, wriggling against his father’s hold. Mark calls out as Mitch manages to squirm out of his arms and drop back down to the floor.    
  
“Mitchell-” Mark begins as the young five year old approaches the blood stained blonde still sitting on the couch. Mitchell holds out his toy Kiwi, his brown eyes boring into Sebastian’s.    
  
“Take Max,” The dark-haired boy says, holding out the stuffed animal. “He will protect you from the bad guys,”    
  
Sebastian shakes his head. “You need him, Mitchell-”   
  
“I’m a big boy,” Mitchell replies, pushing the soft toy into Sebastian’s hands. “You need him more than me,” He says, smiling as he turns around and runs back over to Mark, leaping into his arms. Mark disappears with the small five year old as Sebastian looks down at the toy Kiwi in his hands. It’s old - Mitchell has clearly had it from a young age and it smells of chocolate and of Mark’s cologne. He wonders if Mitchell could be his, the dates seem to match up and there’s some of his mannerisms within the young five year old. He thinks back to when he and Mark were together, Mark had never given any indication about Mitch, he’d remained strangely silent for a few years.    
  
“Sebastian,” Mark’s voice cuts through his thoughts once more. The Australian man looks tired and pale. He sinks back into the couch beside Sebastian, looking pained. “Was there another reason you came here?”   
  
“I don’t understand what you mean, Mark,” Sebastian replies, the thoughts still racing through his head. “I came because I didn’t want to-”   
  
“You didn’t want to worry your family,” Mark’s voice cracks on the last word. “I understand that, I just need to know if there was another reason-”   
  
“Is he mine?” Sebastian cuts in, his eyes turning to meet Marks. “Mitchell, is he mine?”   
  
Mark doesn’t answer. He just looks down at the stuffed animal still in Sebastian’s hands.   
  
“Mark, answer me-” Sebastian growls, feeling the anger tear through him. “I swear to god-”   
  
“He’s yours,” Mark whispers, looking down at the ground. He doesn’t move as Sebastian rips himself from the couch and begins to pace across the floor.    
  
“And you thought that you could just keep this from me?” Sebastian hisses, casting a glance to the door. “You thought you could keep my own son away from me?”   
  
“Sebastian, please-”   
  
“I can’t believe you,” Sebastian says. “All this time, you’ve kept Mitchell away from me and away from his brother, away from us,”   
  
“I never kept him from you,” Mark hisses back with venom. “I wrote to you, I told you all about him when he was a year old, I sent a letter to your house,”   
  
“What-” Sebastian begins, his eyes narrowing.    
  
“I wrote to you,” Mark says, keeping his voice low. “You never replied. I thought you didn’t care about us, about Mitchell, so I vowed to keep him from you, so you wouldn’t hurt him like you hurt me,”   
  
“I never received your letter,” Sebastian says, the anger slowly waning.    
  
“Stop lying, Sebastian-” Mark begins. “Just fucking get out and leave me and my son alone-”   
  
Sebastian grabs hold of Mark’s wrist, his blue eyes glance into Mark’s brown ones. “I’m not lying, I never got the letter. I swear on Daniel and Max’s lives that I never got your letter,”   
  
“Then who did?” Mark says, tears still in his eyes.    
  
“I don’t know, but I will find out,” Sebastian says quietly. “They’ve kept the rightful heir of the Bratva away,”    
  
Mark’s eyes harden. “My son is not the heir of your empire, Sebastian,”   
  
“ _ Our _ son,”    
  
“My son, Sebastian. You didn’t know he existed until a few minutes ago. I’m not having him be dragged into your world, into the Bratva,”   
  
“I would never put him in danger, Mark,” Sebastian says quietly. “I would protect him with my life,”   
  
“I know you would, I’m just scared that you’ll hurt him like you hurt me,” Mark says slowly, his eyes finally locking with Sebastian’s.    
  
“I would never,” Sebastian whispers back, holding out the stuffed animal for Mark to take. “I want to be there for Mitchell. Please let me be a part of his life,”   
  
Mark’s fingers close around the animal and he looks at it with a small smile on his face. “If you go back on your word, I’ll kill you myself, Sebastian Vettel,” He vows, his eyes burning into Sebastian’s.    
  
Sebastian nods, the burn of his wound forgotten. 


	11. Kidnapped [Sebastidan] [Toddler Max & Mitch]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you all know, i'm a slut for Seb's boys so low and behold, another fic about the bros. Bit of warning for hurt towards a child since Max is 6 and Mitch is 9 but it's not too graphic so you should be okay! Enjoy :) - Emma (princessrosberg)

Mitch jolts awake when he feels a pair of arms curling around his body - they’re not soft like his Dad’s, nor are they small like his younger brothers. His eyes flick open, meeting the gaze of cold blue ones, but before he can call for his Dad, the man places a rag around his mouth, silencing his screams as he roughly bundles Mitch into his arms. Mitch tries his best to fight against the grasp but his tiny body is nothing compared to the man, and in response he tightens his grip, fingers digging into his skinny wrists.   
  
Realisation seems to sink in, and Mitch whips his head about to find his brother - his tiny 6 year old brother who had been sleeping next to him - but his vision suddenly goes black when the man ties a piece of fabric around his eyes. He can feel them wrapping something tight around his wrists, the plastic rubbing against the skin and digging into the bones, before the rough hands grab at his arms again to drag him out the room. Mitch tries to scream, tries to make noise and get  _ anyone’s  _ attention, but all his struggling gains him is a rough slap against his cheek. The tears start forming in his eyes, threatening to spill and slide down his cheeks - but Mitch forces himself not to cry, he has to stay strong for the sake of his brother. 

* * *

 

His knees smack against the cold metal floor, a door slams behind him. Mitch tries to move his hands, but the ties are still too tight around his wrists, still rubbing against his skin. He manages to move his mouth enough for the rag to drop down, and takes in a couple of breaths to calm his breathing before he speaks.  
  
“Max?”   
Mitch says softly, a quiet whimper comes back in response from his left. He tries to move over to where he can hear his brother, knees scraping against the metal floor, but the floor suddenly jolts beneath him and he drops forward, his forehead bumping against a small body. Mitch can hear the engine and the noisy traffic outside, and the panic soon starts to kick in. It’s hard to stay calm, he doesn’t know where he’s going or if his Dad knows he’s even been taken yet, but he has to try for Max. He lifts his head slightly, nose brushing against the side of Max’s neck and he stops when he manages to find the material that’s wrapped around his brothers mouth, using his teeth to pull it away.  
  
“Mitchy, i want Daddy!”  
  
Max cries out, burying his head against Mitch’s chest. He wants to wrap his arms around the younger boy, to give him some sort of comfort, but he’s still struggling to break free from the plastic zip ties. He remembers when his father had shown him a few years ago, how easy it is to snap the plastic, but he’s struggling to find the strength to break free. Max cries out again, his loud sobs echoing around the small space, and Mitch can hear the men talking in the front.  
  
“Shh, it’s okay Max, i’m getting us out of here”   
  
Mitch whispers, trying to soothe his screaming brother. He twists his wrists slightly, crossing them like his father showed him to, and uses all his force to smack his wrists against his back. It almost seems too good to be true when the tight plastic snaps and falls away from his wrists. Mitch takes in a deep breath to calm his breathing, before reaching up and tugging the blindfold away from his eyes.   
  
He glances around for a moment, taking in the scenery of what looks like the back of a van but soon puts his focus back on his baby brother. His hands shake as he pulls the material away from Max’s eyes, holding his face for a moment to calm him down before his hands drop down to curl around Max’s tiny wrists. Mitch can tell he’s been struggling more, the skin around his wrists are bright red and there’s a couple marks of dried up blood against his pale skin.   
  
“This might hurt a little but you have to stay strong for me okay Maxy?”  
  
Max nods in response, his eyes red and filled with tears, but before Mitch can break away the plastic, the rough hands from before curl around his tiny body again.   
  
“Get off me you piece of shit!”   
  
Mitch screams, thrashing about in the man’s to try and break free, to grab his brother and bolt out the back. He doesn’t get very far though, he manages to scratch his nails against the man’s face before something smacks against the side of his head and his vision goes black.   


* * *

“Yeah they’re both here, not sure which you want first though. The older one is a little prick”

Mitch can faintly hear someone speaking, can hear his brothers soft cries beside him - but he’s tired and his head hurts, wants to go back to sleep. However before he can drift unconscious again, someone curls their fingers into his hair and tugs his face upwards, forcing him to open his eyes. Mitch doesn’t say anything - deep down he’s absolutely petrified, but he’s putting on a strong face for Max.  
  
“If it isn’t Mitchell Webber himself, the heir to two of the most notorious families in the world”  
  
The man starts, his ice blue eyes staring down at Mitch.   
  
“How much do we think daddy dearest is going to pay to get you back hmm?”  
  
His grip tightens in Mitch’s hair, and he doesn’t miss the army knife he flicks out in his other hand, the silver blade glistening in the corner of his eye.  
  
“And it’s both of his precious boys, little Maximilian and his foul mouthed older brother Mitchell”  
  
“Go fuck yourself”  
  
Mitch growls back, his fingers already fiddling about with the ties around his wrists. They’re stronger this time though, the metal cold and tight against his skin. The man smirks, lifts the knife close to Mitch’s face, and he closes his eyes to prepare for the pain to come. However nothing happens, and when Mitch opens his eyes to see the man towering over his brother, the blade resting against his cheek, he roughly tugs on his bonds.  
  
“Get the fuck away from my brother, i swear to god if you touch him i’ll kill you with my own hands!”  
  
Mitch struggles even more, frustration kicking in when he can’t break away and protect his brother like he always does. The tears start to fall now, Max’s screams and the line of blood across his cheek is enough to break him, and Mitch ends up pulling the chair down with him in his struggle.   
  
“Hey calm down _Mitchell,_ we’re nowhere near done yet”  
  
The man smiles, his hand tugging on Mitch’s hair and before the knife can touch his skin, another man enters the room and pulls him away.  
  
“That’s enough Kimi, we don’t want them too damaged do we now?”  
  
“If it means Sebastian will pay more, i can easily mess with two little kids”   
  
“I know, but right now i need you to make the call”  
  
The man - who he now knows as Kimi - huffs and disappears out of Mitch’s vision. The other man curls his hand around the chair to put Mitch back on his feet, though when he sees the cold eyes and his insane smile, Mitch wants the other man back.  
  
“Ahh Mitchell, you are your family have caused me so many problems “  
  
He starts, pacing up and down in front of Mitch. He keeps his eyes on the man, but glances towards his younger brother to make sure he’s okay. The blood is still clinging to his cheek, but he’s stopped crying now, though Mitch doesn’t know if that’s a good thing of a bad thing.   
  
“They’ve ruined my business, hijacked at _least_ 5 of my drug shipments, your dear uncle took my fucking gun investments, and that’s just to name a few”  
  
Mitch doesn’t say anything, still trying to pull away the metal from his wrists, but he’s starting to give up with how tight they are. He leans back slightly to look down at his brother's hands that are around the back of the chair. They’re still the plastic zip ties from before, the ones that are so easy to break, and Mitch tilts his head towards them in the hopes Max will catch on. He catches his brother's gaze and the small nod is enough for Mitch to know. Before anyone else can speak, the man from before - Kimi - slams the door open with the phone to his ear, a snarl across his face.   
  
“£10 million each and no less. Yes they’re nice and safe _Sebastian”  
_  
Mitch’s eyes flick over to Kimi when he hears his Dad’s name. The other man snatches the phone out of Kimi’s hand and places it against Mitch’s ear. He can hear the soft sobs on the other side.  
  
“Dad?”  
  
Mitch whispers, biting his lips when he hears his dad almost scream down the phone.  
  
“Mitchell? Oh god baby are you okay?”  
  
“Yeah i’m-i’m fine dad”  
  
“Is Max okay?”  
  
“He’s...yeah he’s okay”  
  
“I’m coming for you baby, Mark is on his way too. Just hold in there okay? You have to stay strong for your brother”  
  
“I will-”  
  
Kimi pulls the phone away before Mitch can finish his sentence, moving to his right to place the phone against Max’s ear this time. Mitch looks down at his brother’s hands, the plastic is slowly becoming looser and he can see Max still trying to work his wrists free as he talks to their dad. Mitch nervously bites his lip when the zip ties fall away from his brother’s wrist, he doesn’t know how he can help and he knows that his brother is going to struggle to take on two fully grown men, so all he can do is sit and wait. Kimi pulls the phone away, and puts it to his own ear, disappearing out of the room once more and as soon as the door slams shut Mitch bites his tongue when his brother dives for the man. The force seems to catch him off guard and the man topples to the floor, Max scratching and biting as much as he can.   
  
Mitch’s heart is pounding in his chest as he watches, still tugging and pulling on the metal chains but they stay wrapped around his wrists. The man grabs at Max’s collar and lifts him off the floor effortlessly, holding him at arm's length so he can’t touch him. Mitch cries out when the man slams his fingers down against Max, watching in horror as the 6 year old passes out in his arms. He drops him down to the floor as he’s nothing and stalks over to Mitch, flicking his own knife out this time - one that looks a __lot sharper than the one Kimi had. He rests it against Mitch’s neck, a smirk on his face.  
  
“And they called you the prick? Honestly you’re little baby brother is worse, but he’s pretty pathetic at fighting considering he’s a lovely Bratva prince”  
  
The man pulls the knife away, heading around to the back of Mitch’s chair and he closes his eyes to prepare for the pain. However nothing comes and instead the tight metal falls away from his wrists.   
  
“I’d like to see you fight instead Mitchell, you seem like you know a thing or two about combat”   
  
Mitch pulls himself up, rubbing at his sore wrists and brushing away the dry blood. He eyes the man, who’s a couple of inches taller than him, but his hair is grey and the wrinkles are evident on his face - the old age something he can use to his advantage. The fear has gone now, replaced with adrenaline as he dodges out of the way of one of the swings. He catches sight of the man’s knife on the floor, but his distraction gains him a harsh hit to his face that knocks him over to the floor. He raises his hand to his lip, pulling it away to see his fingers coated in blood.   
  
“Not bad, for someone your age you do fight pretty well, but it’s not going to be enough”  
  
The man smirks, raising his hand again but Mitch rolls out of the way to avoid it, his fingers curling around the knife on the floor. He doesn’t stop to breathe, instead diving towards the man and stabbing the knife deep into his body. Mitch doesn’t stop - he hates this, hates the blood splashing up onto his face, the sound of the knife slashing through skin. The man cries out, trying to push Mitch away but the blood pouring out his body is weakening him by the second. Mitch stabs the blade into his neck, flinching when more blood splashes out to cover his hands bright red. He hears something banging in the distance, hears the door slam open but he’s too focused on making sure this man is dead to turn around.   
  
A pair of arms curl around his body and Mitch thrashes about, slashing the knife against one of their hands, until the weapon is pulled away from him and the person turns them around. He blinks to clear his vision - the blood clinging to his eyelashes - and let’s the tears of relief fall. His dad’s bright blue eyes stare back, filled with tears and happiness before he pulls him into a tight hug and lifts him off the floor.   
  
“You’re okay baby, i’ve got you”   
  
His dad - Sebastian - grabs at the bottom of his shirt and rubs it against Mitch’s fair, trying to clean away the blood that’s clinging to his skin. Another pair of hands press against his shoulders, and Mitch glances over his shoulder to the brown eyes of his Papa looking down at him, a soft smile across his face.  
  
“Hey champ, sorry we didn’t get here sooner”   
  
Mark says, rubbing his thumb against Mitch’s cheek in comfort. He happily accepts it, leaning into the touch for a moment before he glances over his shoulder when he hears someone else. Daniel is trying to bite back his cries - but his red and tear filled eyes give everything away. Mitch watches as he curls his arms around Max, gently lifting him off the floor. He looks tiny in Daniel’s arm, his eyes are still closed and the cut stands out against his pale cheek.   
  
Mitch reaches his hand out towards him, Sebastian moving slightly so he can hold his brothers hand. He leans forward to press a small kiss against his forehead, squeezing his hand one last time before turning back around and burying his head against his dad’s shirt, the thoughts of getting home and cuddling with his parents all the night the only thing on his mind. 


	12. You Will Pay [Daniil & Seb]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian, Daniil and Daniel find themselves in a precarious situation, one with a dangerous Mexican drug cartel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys! Sarah here! This story introduces Sergio Perez and Nico Hulkenberg. Sergio is the head of the Mexican branch of the drug cartel trade. And as you know, Daniil and Sebastian are siblings, Christian and Toto are their parents. Daniil is thirteen in this story, Sebastian is twenty.
> 
> Warnings for stabbing, blood and a bit of torture. 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

“I’m looking for the head of the Mexican cartel,” Sebastian says, spitting out the blood from his mouth. The ties bite into his wrists, he can feel the blood sluggishly crawling down his neck. “Where is he?” He begins, only to be silenced by a harsh slap across his face.    
  
“You will speak when spoken to,” A low voice growls against his ear.   
  
“I just want to speak to your boss,” Sebastian hisses back, his eyes narrowed.    
  
He groans in pain as his head is wrenched upwards, the man tugs on his hair and the pain brushes across his scalp.    
  
“I should kill you for even ordering an audience with  el cabecilla,” The man hisses, tugging harder on Sebastian’s scalp, making the blonde hiss in pain.    
  
“Enough,” A hard cold voice cuts through the silence.   
  
Sebastian stops, looking over to where a tall blonde man stands in the doorway. He towers over everyone else, his black suit clinging to every curve of his body. His eyes are blue, but there’s no trace of emotion in them. It’s not the sight of the man that makes Sebastian’s blood run cold, it’s the young man that he’s holding in his arms. Daniel struggles against the man’s grip but to no avail. There’s blood in the corner of his lip and his white shirt is torn, the gun is pressed against his dark curls.    
  
“Seb-” He begins, but the tall blonde’s hand tightens around his neck.    
  
“Silence,” The blonde spits. “You’re not to speak to the traitor, Daniel,”   
  
Daniel struggles again against the blonde, cursing and calling him every name under the sun but the blonde’s hold does not yield. He grits his teeth, his hands tightening over the tanned skin, hard enough to bruise. The blonde stiffens however, as the door opens once more and the sound of expensive Italian leather shoes fills the silence.    
  
“Silence him,” The voice demands and the gun in the blonde’s hand immediately finds Daniel’s temple, making him slump against the blonde’s hands.    
  
“Daniel!” Sebastian yells out, fighting against his own bonds, needing more than anything to get to his boyfriend, to see if he’s okay. Daniel doesn’t respond, still cradled within the man’s hands, his eyes are closed and a trickle of blood dances down his temple.    
  
“Daniel, listen to me-” Sebastian begins but he stops as the blonde moves out of the way, still holding Daniel in his arms to reveal a shorter man with tanned skin. Sebastian barely has time to look over the man, over his dark brown eyes devoid of emotion, over his grey suit as he takes in the sight of the young boy he’s holding in his arms. Dany is still in his pyjamas, struggling against the man’s hands, his eyes wide and tear-filled, the large knife poised against his throat.    
  
“Dany-” Sebastian roars, fighting at his bonds to get to his baby brother. “Dany, it’s okay,”   
  
Dany whimpers, his eyes on the man behind him, on the knife pointing to his throat. “Seb, I’m scared,”   
  
“It’s okay, Dany, it’s okay, I’ll get you out,” Sebastian says, his eyes locked on his brother.    
  
Dany sobs, the knife still pressed against his throat. “Seb-”   
  
“Silence,” The man hisses, the knife ghosting over Dany’s pale skin. “You know, it was easy to find you both, the little princes of the Bratva. You put up more of a fight, Sebastian, though I expected you to, you have been trained well,” His cold brown eyes turn to glance over at the pale-skinned pre-teen in his arms. “I see that you still haven’t been trained yet. I expect this though, you are the spare, the one who will take up the mantle if anything happens to brother dearest,”   
  
Dany looks into the harsh brown eyes. “What do you want from me?” He whispers, tears still falling down his cheeks.    
  
“Nothing really,” The man says, smiling. “Your father ruined a rather important deal for me, so I thought I would ruin his family. I thought I’d kill you and make your big brother watch, Daniil,” He smiles, the blade of the knife moving down to hover over the curve of his throat.    
  
“I’ll enjoy making you scream, Dany,” The man says. The point of the knife ghosts over the pale skin of Dany’s neck, a small bead of blood bubbles up and runs slowly away from the knife. Dany whimpers against him and the man smiles widely. “Look at you, prince, completely at my mercy,”   
  
“Please-” Dany pleads, closing his eyes, tears still falling down his cheeks. “Please don’t,”   
  
“I expected you to be stronger than this, Horner-Wolff,” The man hisses, his eyes still locked on Dany. “I’m disappointed, I thought your father would have trained you better,”   
  
“Fuck you,” Sebastian hisses, still held back by the cable ties. “I’d kill you myself if I wasn’t tied up. You’re Perez aren’t you?” He says, only to find a hand slapping his cheek. The blonde man, the one who had Daniel in his arms, looms over him, his blue eyes like chips of ice as he leans in, his breath ghosting over Sebastian’s cheek.    
  
“You will give the boss the respect he deserves, Horner,” He hisses, his eyes dangerous.    
  
“Now, now, Nico, enough of that,” Perez says, still holding Dany close to his chest. “Aren’t I what you were expecting, dear Sebastian? Expecting someone with a little more brawn?”   
  
“Of course not,” Sebastian says, trying to keep his voice calm, his eyes locked on the blue ones of Nico. “I was taught to never assume things about people, especially ones as dangerous as you,”   
  
Perez laughs. “Your father does have his wise moments,” He glances down at Dany, the wicked smile flashing over his face. “It’s a shame that he will never see his sons again. Certainly not alive, anyway,”   
  
“Why are you doing this?” Dany whispers, the knife still poised against his neck. He watches Perez carefully, watches the handsome features twist in anger.    
  
“Your father killed my father. He killed him over a drugs shipment when I was about Dany’s age here,” He says, the knife digging into Dany’s neck once more. A drop of blood beads to the surface of the pale skin as he continues, “Your grandfather is dead, I needed revenge. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that Christian had not one but two beautiful baby sons - the heir and the spare, how wonderful,” The knife digs deeper and Dany gasps in pain, a trickle of scarlet blood pours down his neck and Sebastian pulls himself against his restraints, swearing, his face red with anger.    
  
“My father will kill you,” He screams, angrily.    
  
“You and your precious baby brother will already be dead by that point. I wonder if your father would make another heir so quickly-” Perez whispers, the point of the knife pressing further. “I’ll enjoy your screams, little Daniil,” He purrs as the knife ghosts over Dany’s skin, leaving a thick red line. Dany tries to struggle, tries to get away, his fingernails ripping at Perez’s suit as he fights to pull away but Perez holds on tight, smirk still on his face.    
  
“Don’t struggle, Daniil. Don’t want to mark your face, we need daddy to recognise you when you’re lying on the floor dead,”   
  
“Seb! Seb!” Dany calls out, tears falling down his face, his hazel-green eyes filled with fear as he struggles. “Seb, help me!”   
  
“Be quiet, little Daniil, or I’ll silence you for good,” Perez hisses, anger twisting over his features as he grabs hold of Dany’s dark curls and jerks his head up. “I should cut up your little face, Daddy would be so angry to see his baby boy all cut up. He’s tried to protect you for so long hasn’t he? Such a shame-” He smiles and lifts the knife towards Dany’s face.    
  
Sebastian yanks at his bonds as Dany’s screams echo through the warehouse. “I’ll fucking kill you!” He screams, tears falling down his cheeks as he watches the blood flow down Dany’s cheekbone, his baby brother sobbing, Perez’s hand still wrapped around him. “I’ll fucking kill you for hurting him!”   
  
“Temper, temper, Sebastian,” Perez smirks, pulling the knife away, looking at the dark red blood coagulating on the tip. “I’m giving young Daniil here the opportunity to die as a man, not a boy,”   
  
“He’s innocent in all this,” Sebastian says, his voice hoarse from yelling. “Let him live, kill me instead,”   
  
“Seb, no-” Daniil begins but Perez covers his hand with a tanned hand, smirking.    
  
“What so your darling little brother can come back in a few years time and exact his revenge on me for killing you? I don’t think so. I’ve heard that your father doesn’t want you to inherit the Bratva, that he wants Daniil to be the head. I’ve heard on the streets he’s even selected you a husband, Daniil, isn’t that sweet? Shame you won’t be alive to see it-” He says, smile twisting over his face as he thrusts the knife up into Dany’s ribcage. Dany stiffens against Perez, his face draining of all colour as he coughs, tries to struggle against the Mexican but to no avail. A trickle of blood cascades down his chest, the knife handle still sticking out of his chest. He glances down at it, his eyes widening in shock for a moment before he slumps against Perez, his eyes slowly dropping shut.    
  
“Dany!” Sebastian screams, fighting against his binds to try and get to his brother.   
  
He feels dizzy, his vision blurs before him, nothing on his mind but Dany, making sure Dany is safe - he takes in the sight of Perez smirking, still holding his brother in his arms. He takes in the sight of Dany’s pale face, his eyes are closed, his body slumped against the drug cartel and another scream tears from his throat. He doesn’t hear the footsteps, doesn’t hear the gun hitting someone on the temple dispatching them immediately. He only sees Perez’s expression twist into one of shock and surprise before he hears the sound of a trigger being pulled. Sebastian watches the bullet tear through Perez’s shoulder, his face filling with pain as he gasps out.   
  
“Unhand my son, Perez,” Christian spits in rapid fire Spanish, the gun unwavering in his hands.    
  
“You can have him, Horner,” Perez declares, spitting out the blood from his mouth, his dark eyes on the older man. “But I fear it might be too late for your little Daniil,” He says, pushing the young thirteen year old away from him as he disappears into the shadows. Christian moves to grab his son before he hits the floor, eyes widening as he takes in the sight of the knife buried in his ribcage.    
  
“Daniil-” He whispers softly, his head brushing back Dany’s thick dark hair. He brushes a kiss to his son’s pale forehead, eyes raking over the closed eyes, over Dany’s chest slowly rising and falling.    
  
“Dad, is he alive?” Sebastian yells out, still fighting against his bonds, blood running down his wrist in his haste to be free from the cable ties.    
  
Another set of footsteps move closer and the door is slammed open, almost pushing itself off his hinges. “Christian?” Sebastian feels a sigh of relief as he hears his father’s voice echo through the room. Toto picks his way into the room carefully, gun poised and ready. He drops it immediately when he finds his husband huddled over a still and pale Dany.    
  
“Shit, what happened-” He begins but Christian shakes his head. “Untie Sebastian and go and find Daniel. He’s breathing and the knife is keeping the blood in, we need to call Adrian,”   
  
Toto nods and moves over to his eldest son, smiling widely at him. “Hey, Champ, gonna get you out of here soon okay?”   
  
“Dany-” Sebastian says, weakly. “And you need to find Daniel-”   
  
“Dany’s with your dad, Champ. He’s gonna be okay,” Toto whispers, gently cupping his eldest son’s face in a rare moment of affection. He cuts through the bonds quickly, rubbing Sebastian’s wrists to get the blood flowing back into them. But Sebastian pushes him away and rises to his feet, wobbling slightly.    
  
“Sebastian-” Toto begins, his voice full of worry.    
  
“Go and find Daniel, I think they knocked him out,” Sebastian whispers, slowly moving his way over to his father and brother. He falls to his knees in front of the pair, his eyes roving over Dany’s still body.    
  
“You should be resting, son,” Christian scolds, his hand still moving over Dany’s hair. The thirteen year old doesn’t stir under the touch and Sebastian folds his hand around the teenagers, worrying his lip.    
  
“I can’t rest until I know he’s okay,” Sebastian whispers.    
  
“He’ll pay for what he did,” Christian says, his hazel-green eyes fixed on his son.    
  
“I know he will, father. I will make sure of that,” Sebastian vows, his eyes on his little brother still out cold, the knife twisted into his ribcage. “Perez will pay,” He spits, squeezing Dany’s hand.


	13. Died in your arms [Dany & Max]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song I just died in your arms came on and this was what came to mind when i heard it. Warning for major character death, but otherwise enjoy! - Emma (princessrosberg)

Dany takes in a deep breath, his hand resting against the tall metal door of the warehouse. He'd been told to meet the Galega here by his older brother Sebastian, to conduct a simple deal in his place. He wouldn't usually be worried, he knows the Galega inside and out, knows what to expect from them, however it's the boy behind him that is making his nerves slowly creep up. Sebastian had insisted that Max was to come along - that he needed to be exposed to more deals and become familiar with their allies and enemies - but something is knocking Dany's confidence today, and he /really/ doesn't like it.    
  
"Dany?"    
  
Max whispers, drawing him from his thoughts. He looks over his shoulder at the 17 year old - his blue eyes so similar to Sebastian’s - and can see the worry in them. He squeezes Max's hand in reassurance, before pulling away and curling it around his gun.    
  
"It's okay, I'll keep you safe I promise"    
  
Dany replies, pushing the heavy door open and stepping inside. Someone disarms him the moment he steps inside, there hands skilled and Dany isn't surprised to see Jenson's smirk when he turns around.   
  
"Sorry love, can't have you armed now can we?"    
  
Jenson says, waving the gun around as if to taunt him. Dany just rolls his eyes and heads further into the warehouse. Fernando is sat on top of a crate, the guns that Dany was here to pick up spread out in front of him. He glances to the boy next to him - he hasn’t seen Carlos in a while, after their marriage a couple months ago he’d disappeared back to his parents house almost instantly - and Dany never bothered to contact him, even if deep down he did miss the Spaniard.    
  
“Hello darling, it’s been awhile hasn’t it?”   
  
Carlos says, smiling softly as he heads towards Dany. He’s careful to not let his guard down too much when Carlos curls his arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug and presses a soft kiss against his cheek.    
  
“Too long”   
  
Dany replies quietly, reluctantly letting go of Carlos as he takes his place back next to Fernando. Dany takes a glance over to Max, his hand curling around the young boys wrist to pull him closer. Fernando’s smile grows wider as he pulls himself up, taking a few steps towards the two and stopping in front of Max.   
  
“Little Maximilian, you’ve grown a lot since i last saw you”   
  
Fernando says, reaching his hands up to cup Max’s cheek in them. Dany feels his nails dig into the skin of his hand, and he can feel how tense he is.    
  
“ _ Fernando” _   
  
Dany warns, his voice low and threatening. He watches the shorter man pull away and roll his eyes before turning to Dany.   
  
“You always ruin the fun Daniil”   
  
Fernando replies, but soon shuts up when Dany tosses him the bag over his shoulder, the notes spilling out onto the floor. Fernando smirks in response and clicks his fingers, Carlos dropping down in response as he starts to count the stacks of money.   
  
“Lost your trust Fernando?”   
  
“Doesn’t hurt to double check does it Daniil? You of  _ all  _ people should know that”   
  
Dany bites his lip to stop himself from rolling his eyes. There’s something different about Fernando, something about his body language and the constant smirk on his face - Dany just wants to grab Max and get the hell out of here. He counts over the guns that are laying on the floor- there’s 2 Beretta’s - one for Max and one for his older brother Mitch, a 9mm Uzi for himself and a VSK sniper rifle for Daniel. He frowns slightly when he comes one short - Sebastian had requested for a 13 inch Colt Anaconda, a new revolver that he could take abroad, but the small silver gun isn’t there with the rest.    
  
“Fernando? Where is our final gun?”   
  
Dany growls, glancing between Fernando and Carlos in both anger and worry. Fernando smiles again, calling Jenson over who has the gun in questions in his hand. It;s absolutely beautiful - though he’d expected no less from the Galega - the silver barrel sparkling slightly and the wooden handle free from any scratches.    
  
“It’s a beautiful piece this, definitely something a Bratva prince would use”   
  
Fernando says, opening up the chamber and tilting it slightly towards Dany. It’s loaded, the golden bullets fit snugly inside.    
  
“Though i’d expect something more sophisticated from you Daniil. An uzi does not seem like the gun a prince would wield”    
  
Fernando leans down to pick up the other gun, his fingers curling over the trigger. Dany glances at Max from the corner of his eye, the boy who’d been completely quiet the entire exchange, and grabs at his hand to pull him behind, almost in a protective way. Fernando doesn’t miss the move and grins in response.   
  
“Protecting your dear nephew are you? How sweet”   
  
Fernando purrs, dropping the gun back to the floor.    
  
“The money’s all here father”    
  
Carlos says as he pulls the bag from the floor, handing it over to Fernando now the stacks are neatly placed back inside.    
  
“Then you two are free to go”   
  
Fernando throws the money towards his husband who happily accepts it and disappears out the back. Dany leans down to pick up the guns, securing the sniper and submachine gun over his shoulder and taking Sebastian’s revolver between his fingertips. He lets Max take the Beretta’s, smiling slightly as he holds the two in his hand, fingers instinctively dropping down to the triggers. Dany turns around, intent of getting out of here and back home as soon as possible - if he misses the football match he’s going to  _ kill _ Sebastian. He manages to make a few steps, before he feels a pair of hands roughly push him down to the floor. Dany catches himself before his face smacks against the concrete floor, a gunshot echoes in his ear, and he glances around to see what was going on. He sees Carlos first, his brown eyes filled with tears and his mouth moving, but he can’t hear what he’s saying from the ringing. 

His hand is curled around Fernando’s trying to wrestle the gun away from him, and Dany frowns in confusion for a moment, until he watches Max drop down to his knees. Carlos’ words start to register in his head, the rapid fire Spanish of  _ Run! You need to fucking run! _ suddenly making sense, and Dany scrambles to pull himself up from the floor. He doesn’t bother asking Max if he can walk, instead he lifts the boy up into his arms and bolts for the door. Another bullet catches his shoulder, piercing the skin and he has to do everything in his strength to not drop Max. He doesn’t stop running until the warehouse disappears over the horizon, the pain starting to worsen in his shoulder and all he wants to do is rest. Dany risks a glance down to Max, his shirt now soaked in bright red blood, his eyes fluttering and struggling to stay open.    
  
“Max, don’t you dare go to sleep on me, not yet”    
  
Dany whispers, his voice failing him as the tears threaten to spill. He’s still got to cut across a field and through the forest until his home is even in sight, and he isn’t sure if he can carry Max that far. He takes in a deep breath, forcing himself to live through the pain, and starts the run back to their home. Dany manages to get through the field, the small row of trees the only thing separating him from safety. He glances down at Max again, panic filling his entire body when he isn’t met with his blue eyes. They’re shut now, his head resting against the side of Dany’s arm and his entire body still.   
  
“Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck!  _ Maxy you gotta wake up for me come on”   
  
Dany drops down to his knees, placing his fingers against the side of Max’s neck. He can’t feel any sign of a pulse underneath them, but he puts it down to the fact he’s only half awake himself, because  _ of course  _ his little nephew was okay, he always was.    
  
“Max wake up, i can’t keep carrying you”   
  
He slaps his hand lightly across Max’s cheek, waiting for the boy to open his bright blue eyes again. The realisation seems to sink in when he doesn’t, all the feeble attempts to wake him up coming short, and he won’t admit it, but he knows why Max won’t wake up.    
  
“ _ No,  _ you’re not doing this- how am i supposed to tell Sebastian?”   
  
Dany says, although it’s more to himself, because it’s true - how was he supposed to tell his brother that his son was  _ gone.  _   
  
“Max?”   
  
He tries one last time, holding the boys face in his hands and running his thumb across his skin- It’s starting to become cold already. He bites back the screams, forces himself to stay strong until they at least get home, and holds Max close against his body, his cheeks stained with tears.

* * *

  
Dany kicks on the door, screaming for his dad until the exhaustion kicks in and he drops down on the front step. The door swings open, and when Dany glances up he’s met with the brown eyes of his dad. Toto drops down to his knees, trying to look over Dany, but he pulls away and clings his arms around Max, screaming out into the cold night. Toto pries him away from the boy, forcing him to step inside while he bundles Max up in his arms. Dany glances around - he hopes Sebastian and Daniel aren’t home - but his hopes are shattered when he hears Daniel’s voice from the stairs.   
  
“Dany? Are you okay?”   
  
He looks at Dany, his eyes drifting to the wound on his shoulder. Dany doesn’t reply, the tears and sobs making anything he says an incoherent mess.    
  
“Where’s Ma-”   
  
Dany’s screams are even louder when he sees the realisation in Daniel’s eyes, as he looks over at his son who’s bundled up in Toto’s arms. Dany watches as he takes the last few steps and heads over to Toto, his hand brushing the hair away from Max’s face. He doesn’t say anything, his eyes squeeze shut tightly to will the tears away, before they open again and lock with Dany’s - the anger and hurt in them are enough to break him.    
  
“I trusted you!”   
  
Daniel’s hands wrap around Dany’s throat as he slams him against the wall, his lips curled up into a snarl and tears in the corner of his eyes.   
  
“We fucking trusted you to keep him safe!”   
  
Dany closes his eyes. He can’t bare to look at how broken Daniel is, that it was  _ his  _ fault he was so distraught. He feels Daniel’s hand smack against the side of his face, his nails digging into the skin of his neck before someone rips him away. Dany takes in a much needed breath and opens up his eyes. Sebastian has Daniel’s arms curled around his back, holding him in place as he struggles against his brother.    
  
“Get  _ off  _ me Sebastian! I trusted him to look after my son and he-”   
  
His words trail off into a cry, and all Dany can do is watch as he turns around and throws his arms around Sebastian, screaming into his shirt. Sebastian holds him tighter, his gaze flicking up to Dany’s - he doesn’t say anything, the look in his eyes is enough for Dany to know. He drops down to the floor, head smacking against the floor. He catches Sebastian’s gaze from the corner of his eye before he’s pulled into unconsciousness - his brother would usually be right by his side the moment something was wrong, holding his hand and stroking his hair, telling him everything would be okay - but this time he shakes his head, eyes full of hurt and turns around to break their gaze. He lets his eyes slide shut, too tired to fight against it, and prays that he doesn’t have to wake back up.    



	14. Did You Wrong [Carlos/Max] [Mitch/Alex]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitch and Alex get married. Max fights against his feelings for the beautiful Carlos, trapped in a loveless marriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you have probably gathered, most of these fics stand alone and do not have a set canon. This is one of these fics. Carlos and Dany are married however. Dany is Max's uncle and has become head of the Bratva at Christian's request. 
> 
> Warnings for handjobs, frottage, lashing and branding.

“I’m getting married in the summer,” Mitch says, smiling as he shows off the giant sparkling ring on his finger.    
  
Max raises an eyebrow at the ring on his brother’s finger - he had been expecting this in some way, Mitch and Alex had been dating steadily for three years, he’s watched their father get more and more nervous as the years have passed, wanting nothing more than to see his eldest son married. He chances a glance at Alex - at his future brother in law - his arm wrapped over Mitch’s shoulder, looking down at his new fiance fondly. Max hates the pair of them sometimes - how perfect they are for each other - how Alex’s fingers brush over Mitch’s neck, how happy his brother looks. They look strange when they’re pressed together in their jeans and their vest tops, as opposed to the sharp suits they usually wear.    
  
“Did Father insist?” Max asks.    
  
Mitch shakes his head. “No, no, Alex just took me to St Petersburg and got down on one knee, it was so romantic-”   
  
Max tries to imagine Alex Lynn, heir to the Firm, going down on one knee with the giant sparkling ring. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen the man smile.    
  
“I want you to be best man,” Mitch says, grin stretching over his lips. “At the wedding, I mean,”   
  
“What?” Max says in disbelief. “Me?”   
  
“Well, I don’t have another brother,” Mitch replies, smirking. “So will you do it?”   
  
“Of course,” Max says, smiling. “I’d love to,”   
  


* * *

  
  
Max soon regrets the decision when he finds himself sitting in Hugo Boss watching his big brother slip on suit after suit, sighing heavily.    
  
“I want to look perfect for Alex,” Mitch says, smoothing his hands over the lapels of the navy suit. “What do you think of this one, Maxy?”   
  
“Mitch, Alex would marry you in nothing but your birthday suit,” Max says, rolling his eyes slightly at his big brother. “I doubt he will care what you wear. Are you having matching colours?”   
  
“I think so,” Mitch says, glancing down at the jacket, his hands moving to smooth out the creases. “I was thinking we could have the Macarena as the song we dance to,”   
  
“Please don’t,” Max says. “Father would kill you,”   
  
“Speaking of music, I was wondering if you would be able to dance with Alex’s best man at the wedding reception. It’s tradition for the best man to be the first one to follow the couple onto the dance floor but we don’t have bridesmaids so we figured-”   
  
“Who is Alex’s best man?” Max asks, his voice curious.    
  
“Carlos,” Mitch says, shedding his suit jacket and giving his little brother an awkward smile.    
  
“Carlos,” Max says in disbelief. “Is in Carlos Alonso?”   
  
“Yes, Carlos Alonso-Kvyat. Father isn’t happy that there’s going to be a Galega at the wedding, but apparently he and Alex grew up together,” Mitch says, worrying his lip. “Is Carlos being there going to be a problem?”   
  
“Thought it would be weird for you, since you know...all the business with you and Carlos went down,”   
  
“Max, you can call it what it is. We fucked, we shouldn’t have broke the code but...well, that’s in the past now,”   
  
“Does Alex know about him?” Max presses.    
  
Mitch stiffens, his fingers pausing over his lapels. “He does know that we have history. He knows about my past,”   
  
Max glances down at his own suit. “And Father is okay with him at the wedding?”   
  
“He doesn’t have a choice. Alex wanted him by his side. They’ve barely seen each other in months, I hear that Carlos has changed now, since Dany has become head of the Bratva, he has a lot more duties,”   
  
“I doubt that,” Max says, wondering how much Carlos has changed, if he still looks the same as he did four years ago, if he still wears his hair the same way, if he still smiles the same way. He wonders if he still looks at Dany with the same contempt, if he hates him like he used to. Max remembers back to when he was seventeen, when he was introduced to his uncle’s new fiance. Carlos was beautiful, even then. Max remembers the jealousy sinking into his chest as his uncle Dany pressed his arm around his fiance’s shoulders protectively.    
  
“Good to know,” Mitch says, grinning as he knocks Max out of his thoughts. “Now, we need to get you all suited up,”   
  


* * *

  
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Max says, worrying his lip as he watches Mitch down another shot of something colourful. “Father didn’t authorise this,”   
  
“Maximilian,” Mitch says, smirking. “This is my last night of freedom before I become a married man. I’m hardly asking for permission from Dad,”   
  
“Does Mark know?”    
  
“He bought us these,” Mitch says, waving a sparkly pink princess tiara around, grinning widely.    
  
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Max says as Mitch pulls an outfit out of his closet.   
  
It’s a bright pink silk sundress and Max finds his cheeks turning a similar colour as he watches his big brother pull off his clothes down to his black Calvin Kleins. He slips on the dress quickly, smoothing it out over his tanned skin. Max shakes his head, watching as Mitch pulls on the sash that Stoffel had bought for him - the one declaring  _ I’m getting married! _ In giant pink letters - before he places the shiny tiara into his thick dark hair.    
  
“How do I look?” Mitch says, grinning.    
  
Max says nothing as he buttons the fancy shirt he’s wearing for Mitch’s stag party. He still thinks this is a bad idea, wonders what their grandfather would say if he saw his two grandchildren - two princes of the Bratva - one of which is wearing a tiara and a dress. However, as he’s thinking about how angry his grandfather will be, Mitch moves closer, pressing something into his hair.    
  
“Mitch, what the fuck-” Max says, glancing in the mirror to see a glittering silver tiara nestled in his hair. “I’m not the one getting married,”   
  
“You’re the best man,” Mitch says. “You’re in this together with me. Now stop complaining, we need to get drinking,”   
  
“Mitch-” Max begins but he finds his big brother ushering him towards the door.   
  


* * *

  
  
Max immediately regrets the decision as he watches his oldest brother sink spirit after spirit at the bar, the tiara still clinging to his dark curls as he cheers, grinning widely. Max hopes that he doesn’t do anything stupid like try snog someone else - he’s not sure that Alex will forgive him if his future husband ends up snogging the entire club on his stag party. He’s about to go and pull Mitch away from the tall dark man giving him the eyes when he bumps into someone, sloshing his drink down himself. He’s about to curse the man when he comes face to face with a familiar pair of brown eyes.    
  
“Max?” Carlos says, looking surprised.    
  
Max feels his cheeks turn red at the sight of his brother-in-law. He looks good - he’s grown his hair out a little, he’s filled out, there’s muscle hidden underneath his t-shirt. However, Carlos’s eyes are hidden by thick rimmed glasses, his hair is slicked back and there’s freckles - freckles - painted onto his face. He’s wearing the ugliest argyle sweater that Max has ever seen but he’s still beautiful, he looks strange - Max is certain that Carlos must be dressed up for the night out. He knows Carlos doesn’t wear glasses.    
  
Carlos smiles as though he can hear Max’s questions. “I’m here with friends on a stag do,” He explains, shaking his head. “Trust me, I wouldn’t wear this normally,”   
  
“That’s a shame,” Max catches himself saying. He feels his cheeks heat up once more as Carlos smiles at him.    
  
“It’s been a while since I saw you, little Maximilian. Though you are not so little anymore,” Carlos’s eyes seem to burn into him.    
  
“I-” Max begins, feeling his cheeks redden as Carlos moves in closer. He’s still as beautiful as ever, still as dangerous as ever. Max spots the silver ring still circled around his finger.    
  
“Still with Uncle Dany then? How’s Bratva business?”   
  
Carlos smirks, pushing back his hair. “Boring as usual. I am expected to be a good little Bratva wife and stay at home, I know that your grandfather will expect children in a year or two. Don’t get married, little Maximilian,”   
  
“Mitch is getting married,” Max finds himself saying and Carlos smiles wider if that’s possible.    
  
“I know,” Carlos says. “He will be happy with Alex. The Lynns have been friends with my father for years,”   
  
“You’re not upset?” Max says, his tone tinged with disbelief.    
  
“Of course not, Mitch is in my past. Though I must admit, he was excellent in bed. I haven’t slept with Dany in months, he’s so busy being the head of the Bratva. I barely see him,”   
  
“I’m sorry,” Max says, pushing a hand through his hair, forgetting about the tiara set in his hair.    
  
“Why are you sorry?” Carlos says, moving closer. “Are you to blame? I think he’s fucking someone else but I cannot prove it-”   
  
“Dany would never cheat on you-” Max begins.    
  
“Why do you say that, Maximilian?”   
  
“Because look at you, how could anyone cheat on you, Carlos?” Max says in disbelief.    
  
Carlos bites back a laugh. “Why? You tell me, he comes home with lovebites on his neck and he never lets me touch him anymore, Maximilian. I grew to love him, despite everything - he says he’s doing a deal with the Merhis but he never comes home,”   
  
“Carlos, I’m sorry,” Max whispers, looking down at his feet.    
  
“Why do you apologise? It’s not your fault that I am not beautiful enough to keep my husband in our bed,” Carlos says, shaking his head. “I must go, I should not tell you these things, Daniil would kill me-”   
  
Max grabs Carlos’s wrist as he moves to leave. “Wait, don’t go,”   
  
Carlos gives Max a small smile as he looks down at their entwined hands. “Maximilian, please-”   
  
Max’s thumb strokes over Carlos’s wrist. “You don’t need to hide your problems away, Carlos.”   
  
“Right, I should let the whole world know that my husband has been fucking Roberto Merhi Jr behind my back should I? I’d be a laughing stock, Max. You know that-”   
  
“Carlos-” Max begins but before he can finish, he hears his older brother calling out his name. He reluctantly lets go of Carlos’s hand, watching him disappear into the crowd. He hears screams to his left and quickly finds himself watching his big brother, still dressed in the dress and tiara with his gun out, trained on a young man.    
  
“Mitch-” Max begins but Mitch ignores him, swaying a little from the drink, his gun still trained on the man. “Mitch, you know not to pull out your weapon in public,”   
  
“He was insulting me, Maxy-” Mitch slurs, the tiara still clinging to his hair.    
  
Max sweeps in, quickly disarms his brother with an expert hand, pocketing the gun quickly. “Mitch, we have to move, these idiots will have called the cops on us for having a gun,”   
  
“It’s my stag party, Maxy. I’m fucking staying,” Mitch mutters, glaring at the man.    
  
“We’re leaving now,” Max says, pulling Mitch through the crowd, his teeth are gritted, his hands still wrapped around the gun as he keeps hold of his big brother. Mitch still struggles against him, swearing, but he’s too drunk to fight back. Max sighs heavily as they walk through the streets of Moscow, he keeps his brother’s gun close to hand - one can never be too careful, especially not when you’re Bratva - the plastic tiara sticks into his chest as Mitch grumbles drunkenly against his shirt, still angry about what happened. “Can’t believe you made us leave, that guy insulted me,” He hisses in Spanish.   
  
“Mitch, you can’t pull your gun out on anyone,” Max hisses back - he’s unsure why they’re speaking in Spanish, he assumes that Mitch doesn’t want anyone who speaks Russian or English listening into their conversation. “As if we won’t be in enough trouble with father,”   
  
“Relax, bro,” Mitch says, giggling as he ruffles Max’s hair. “I’m sure dad will be in bed by the time we get home,”   
  
Max isn’t so sure.    
  


* * *

  
  
“Where on earth have you been?” Christian roars when they finally walk through the door in the early hours of the morning. Their grandfather looks furious - Max spots the butts of five cigars in the ashtray, a sure sign that the ex-head of the Bratva is stressed. “Well?” Christian hisses, hazel-green eyes wide, “Aren’t you going to explain yourselves?”   
  
“Relax, Grandpa,” Mitch slurs, swaying slightly against Max. “We just went out for a few drinks,”   
  
“You’re princes of the Bratva, Mitchell Vettel.” Christian spits, his eyes dark with anger. “You have a sense of decorum to uphold. Not to dress like prostitutes, getting drunk. What is Alexander going to say?”   
  
“It was a bit of fun,” Max pipes up, shrinking back when his grandfather’s gaze falls on him.    
  
“A bit of fun? You two went out without any protection, the two fucking heirs to the Bratva exposed without anyone to protect you. Anyone could have killed you both,” Christian slams down his fist into his mahogany desk. “You compromised everything,”   
  
“I had a gun, Gramps. We were fine, I could have protected Max. He’s the one who is important right now,” Mitch says, his eyes burning dark. “Don’t worry, your little heir was safe with me,”   
  
“Mitch-” Max says, shaking his head. “Mitch, stop it, you’re drunk-”   
  
“It’s true, Maxy. Ask dear Grandpa here. The only reason he’s allowing me to marry Alex is because it frees you up to be the head. He’s just letting Dany be the head for a little while. Waits for Carlos to kill Dany and marries me off, so he’s got you where he wants you. You couldn’t stand for a Webber to be the head of everything you ever earned, could you?”   
  
Christian slaps Mitch across the face, the tiara falls away from his hair, the cheap plastic hitting the floor. Max immediately grabs onto his brother, keeping him upright whilst he rubs his cheek, a red mark blossoming on his dark skin. “Don’t you ever say that name again, Mitchell. We don’t mention past mistakes,”   
  
Mitch smiles, spitting the blood out from his mouth. “Even when the mistakes come back to haunt you. Don’t you worry, Grandpa, I won’t tell Daddy or Uncle Dany what you’ve done,”   
  
“Maximilian,” Christian says. “Please escort Mitchell to his room,” His tone is tight and controlled as he turns away. “I want to see you in my office tomorrow, Mitchell, for your punishment. You will be taught that this behaviour is simply not becoming of a Bratva prince.” He pauses for a moment. “I will call George Lynn and inform him of this matter. Clearly, we need to bring the wedding forwards, maybe Alexander will calm you down,”   
  
Mitch opens his mouth to speak but Christian waves his hand away. “You’re dismissed. My office at 8am, sharp tomorrow, Mitchell,”   
  


* * *

  
  
Max is surprised when he’s called to Christian’s office that morning. He walks through the door to find Christian sitting at his desk, Dany standing next to him, looking stoic. Mitch stands before the pair, looking slightly untidy, his eyes glaring.    
  
“Ahh, Maximilian,” Christian says, smoothly. “Just on time. Your behaviour and Mitchell’s was not acceptable last night. I’ve heard from witnesses that you were both drunk and dressed inappropriately.” He pauses for a moment. “But somebody also told me that you were holding hands with Carlos Alonso-”   
  
Max feels his brother’s eyes on him. “As you know, touching the spouse of a Bratva captain is forbidden. You must be punished, Maximilian,”   
  
Max says nothing.    
  
“Do you admit to these allegations, Maximilian?”   
  
“I do, grandfather,”   
  
“You held Carlos Alonso-Kvyat’s hand despite the fact you knew that he was married to your uncle and therefore, cannot be touched by anyone but him?”   
  
Max nods once.    
  
“Daniil. You will perform the punishment. Three lashings should do it. He’s never been lashed before,” Christian orders before he turns to Mitch. “I think you know what I am going to say,”   
  
Mitch says nothing as Christian continues. “I heard that you pulled a gun on somebody last night whilst highly intoxicated. You were also seen flirting with various other men who are not your fiance. I have not informed George Lynn of your behaviour but you must be punished for giving our family a bad reputation. You wear the Vettel name, Mitchell, whether you like it or not. You must begin acting like a Bratva prince,”   
  
Mitchell remains silent.    
  
“You therefore will be given four lashings,” Christian says smoothly.    
  
“Why must Mitch get more than me?” Max pips up, eyes wide. “I touched Carlos and get three?”   
  
“Max, it’s okay,” Mitch says, there’s a small smirk on his face. “Don’t you see why? It’s okay, I expected to get more,”   
  
“Maximilian,” Dany cuts in. “You will be silent when the punishments are being handled. Mitchell Vettel, you will be given five lashings,” He pauses. “And Maximilian will give them,”   
  
Mitch’s grin drops off his face. “No, no. You can’t make him do that-”   
  
“I’m the head of the Bratva, Mitchell. I can do whatever I please,” Dany cuts him off, eyes burning. “Maximilian will deliver the five lashings,”   
  


* * *

  
  
Max feels the tears prick at his eyelids as the first lash hits his bare back, forcing a scream from his lips. He sees Mitch tug at Christian’s tight grip, trying to tear himself away, trying to get to his little brother. Max feels the pain tug at him, feels the blood slowly flow from his back and bites down on his lip as Dany delivers the second lash.    
  
“Fuck,” He whispers, the tears falling down his cheeks. He tries to be brave, tries not to cry but it hurts, it hurts so much - the blood flows down his back and he sees the bright red liquid drop onto the floor. He thinks about Mitch, thinks about Carlos in that moment - wonders if Dany is still fucking Roberto, if he’s fucked Carlos yet -    
  
The third and final lash hits him square on the back and he feels a scream penetrate the air. It’s his own scream. Mitch screams back, like a wounded animal, fighting against Christian, swearing, crying as he’s powerless, as Max slumps against the floor, his back is covered with fresh red blood, tears falling down his cheeks as he sobs. It hurts so much, it hurts more than the brand he was subjected to when he was 14, the pain radiates from his back, tears into his gut. Max finds himself wrenched from the floor carelessly by Dany, the leather whip forced into his hand.    
  
“You will deliver Mitchell’s punishment now. I must warn you,” Dany’s eyes are dark. “If you do not lash hard enough, you will be forced to begin again,”   
  
Max continues to cry, as Mitch is forced in front of him, his eyes still dark with anger. Max lifts the whip up as high as he can, pain still shooting through his back, blood still falling down onto his trousers and pooling on the floor.    
  
“I’m sorry, Mitchell-” He sobs before he brings the whip down onto his brother’s tanned back. Mitch fights back, tries not to scream as the skin opens up beneath the skin, blossoming red blood everywhere. Max fights the urge to throw up as he brings the whip down again, hears his brother’s muffled scream, watches the blood bubble up, his vision blurs slightly at the sight, at the thought of hurting Mitch -    
  
“If you pass out, we will have to begin again,” Dany’s voice hisses in his ear and Max bites back a sob, hand tightening around the whip.    
  
“I’m sorry, Mitchy,” He whispers as he lashes his brother once more. The blood bubbles up, red over the bronze, Max hates this, hates Mitch’s bloody back, hates his uncle and grandfather watching intently. He delivers the fourth lash and Mitch finally screams out in pain, in agony. Max feels his heart break at the sound of his brother in so much pain, he nearly drops the whip as fresh tears streak down his face.    
  
“Maxy?” Mitch says, voice hoarse. “Maxy, don’t you dare drop that. C’mon Maxy, one more, we can do it,”   
  
Max delivers the final whip. The blood blossoms over Mitch’s back and Max finds himself dropping it on the floor, the leather tainted with crimson. Sobs bubble up in his throat as he finds himself falling to his knees, dragging himself over to his big brother.    
  
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” He sobs against Mitch, still bloody from the beating. Mitch turns his pain-filled eyes to glance over at his little brother.    
  
“It’s okay, Maxy,” He whispers as he passes out, slumping against Max’s shoulder.   
  


* * *

  
  
The cuts on Mitch’s back are still there when they prepare for the pre-wedding dinner, a tradition within the Bratva that goes back generations. Max hates it personally - remembers when he had to attend Dany’s when he married Carlos, how beautiful Carlos looked then - he wonders what the Spaniard is wearing, how he will wear his hair, if he still spends his evenings alone whilst Dany fucks other people in five star hotels.    
  
“Fancy seeing you here again,” A smooth familiar voice pipes up from the side of him. Max’s eyes widen as he watches Carlos slide into the seat next to him, dressed in a beautiful black tuxedo. Dany is speaking to someone at the side of him, wearing his blood-red Bratva uniform - Carlos’s dark eyes ghost over his husband for a moment before they turn back to Max.    
  
“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Max says quietly. He thinks about the lashes still on his back, how they hurt when he slipped on his dinner suit. He thinks about Carlos’s smile, wonders if it’s worth it, worth crossing his grandfather and Dany again.    
  
“I heard what happened,” Carlos replies, his eyes locked on Max. “I’m sorry,”   
  
“It’s not your fault. Mitch got it worse than me,” Max says, grabbing his wine and taking a sip. He watches Mitch from the main table, smiling away as he talks to Fernando. He spots Alex deep in conversation with Christian and his stomach twists. There’s something not quite right - he suddenly feels a hand on his thigh, ghosting over his wedding trousers. He meets Carlos’s eyes, dark with desire.   
  
He bites his lip, as the hand clearly dances over his thigh as Christian calls everyone to attention, thanks everyone for coming to the event as Alex slides down next to Mitch, beaming at his fiance. The speeches begin - long winded ones about how Mitchell and Alexander will make a wonderful couple, how they will restore order to the Bratva, how they will connect together. Max listens to the speeches, watches his brother carefully, watches Carlos gently grasping Dany’s hand over the table, his other hand still in Max’s lap.    
  
Max bites back a moan as Dany stands up to say his piece, about how proud he is of Mitch, Carlos’s fingers knead over his swollen cock, making it push against the scratchy cotton of his trousers. He bites down on his lip as Dany continues his speech, Carlos’s fingers sweep over his thighs, tracing over the Armani material. Carlos’s hand cups at his cock, his fingers kneading over Max’s balls through his underwear and trousers and Max fights the urge to buck his hips up towards Carlos’s hand. He wants nothing more than for Carlos to push away his trousers, his tanned fingers folding over his cock, tries to imagine Carlos’s mouth on his dick, his tongue flicking over Max’s balls, tracing over the slit -    
  
Carlos smirks as Max lets out a breathly exhale, the telltale feeling of come coating his boxers.   
  


* * *

  
  
“So have you patched things up?” Max finally says, come still sticking to his boxers as they’re halfway through the starter. He cuts into his goats cheese tart before he spares a glance at Carlos. “With you and Dany, I mean?”   
  
“He fucked me last night,” Carlos says, sipping on his soup delicately.    
  
Max nearly chokes on his tart at Carlos’s answer. “I thought you two weren’t getting on-”   
  
“Because I touched you under the table? I get bored easily, Maximilian. Besides, Dany is out on Bratva business tonight, fucking Roberto-”   
  
“Carlos,” Max begins but before he can finish, Mitch appears before his table, wearing a fake smile.    
  
“Max. I need to speak to you in private,” He says, beaming at Carlos before he drags Max away to another room, locking the door behind them.    
  
“Before you start about me and Carlos-”   
  
“Hey, if you want to start shagging the head of the Bratva’s partner on the table at my wedding dinner, go ahead,” Mitch says, waving a hand in dismissal. “I think something is going on with Alex,”   
  
Max raises an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”   
  
“He’s very cosy with Grandpa all of a sudden. He never used to be that friendly. He keeps popping out on business for his father at odd hours. I’m worried something is going down, Maxy,”   
  
“Grandfather is probably preparing him for life in the Bratva,” Max says,    
  
“Maybe,” Mitch says, but he does not look convinced. “He barely talks to me at the moment,”   
  
“Maybe he’s worried about the wedding?”   
  
“More like he’s worried about our crazy ass family-” Mitch mutters. “Christian moved the wedding forward too, we’re getting married in two weeks. He said he wanted me married before I fucked things up any further,”   
  
“Two weeks?” Max says incredulously. “He can’t-”   
  
“He can,” Mitch says gravely. “He’s the ex head of the Bratva, still got Dany under his thumb. They always want heirs married off quickly,”   
  
Max carefully holds onto his big brother’s hand, his eyes staring into the brown ones. “It’s going to be okay,”    
  
“I hope so,” Mitch says, worrying his lip. “We better get back before Grandpa realises we’re missing,”   
  


* * *

  
  
Max smoothes down the lapels of his suit one more time as he chances a glance at his big brother. Mitch looks tired and pale, like he’s going to be sick. His navy suit fits him like a glove, clinging to every curve of his body.    
  
“I’m not ready to get married,” Mitch whispers, fixing his hair once more and adjusting his blood red tie. “I’m not ready for this,”   
  
“Mitch,” Max says, softly. “Mitch, breathe,”   
  
“What if I’m not ready? What if I’m a rubbish husband?” Mitch says, panicked.    
  
“Mitchy,” Max says, taking hold of his brother’s shoulders gently. “Mitch, Alex proposed to you. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t want to marry you,”   
  
“I suppose you’re right. I just wonder if it’s too soon,” Mitch says softly.    
  
“It’s not something we can control, Mitch. But you love Alex and he loves you right?”   
  
“Of course, of course I love him-” Mitch says. “I just don’t want our family to taint him,”   
  
“And they won’t,” Max whispers, tightening Mitch’s tie. “You love him. He loves you, despite our crazy family. Besides, he’s part of the Firm anyway,”   
  
“I suppose you’re right,” Mitch says, a small smile gracing his face.    
  


* * *

  
  
Mitch walks down the aisle slowly, one foot in front of the other. Max is sure that his brother is about to bolt, as he approaches Alex standing at the front of the church in his beautiful black suit, Carlos at his side looking equally stunning. Alex’s mouth stretches into a smile as he sees Mitch, his hand moving to cup Mitch’s gently.    
  
“You look beautiful,” He mouths, his hand curving around Mitch’s and squeezing tightly.    
  
Max stands by Carlos as the ceremony begins, the music fading away. He’s fearful that Mitch might pass out from the pressure; Christian, Daniil and Sebastian are hovering near the front of the altar in their Bratva uniforms, blood-red striking against the white walls of the church. Max spots Mark in the front row next to them, wearing a black suit, sunglasses on.    
  
“We are gathered here today to bring Mitchell and Alexander together into marriage. This marriage will signify their bonding together as absolute partners. Alexander will become one of the Bratva, an equal to his new husband.” The priest says, carefully watching the pair. “Before we enter into the contract, I must explain what the marriage entails. You must be faithful to one another, trust one another, protect and love one another. You may not enter into relations with anyone else, you both belong to one another and the Brotherhood. Firstly, does anyone here not wish for this marriage to take place?”   
  
Silence echoes through the chapel before the priest continues. “We will proceed with the rings and then the brands,” He says.    
  
Max steps forward, pressing the beautiful silver ring into Mitch’s shaking palm and smiling. He watches his brother carefully slide it onto Alex’s finger, beaming widely as the metal fits into place. Alex takes his own ring from Carlos who slips it into his palm gracefully, sliding it onto Mitch’s finger quickly. Mitch cannot keep the smile off his face, even as he pulls his shirt open slightly ready for the brand of the married man.   
  
The poker stings his skin as Alex presses it in, reciting the verse of the Bratva in perfect Russian. Mitch winces as the skin blisters under the brand before Alex pulls it away, bandaging it quickly, the smile no longer on his face. Mitch winces as the bandage catches on his shirt as he buttons it back up, the pain radiating over his chest from the burn.    
  


* * *

  
  
“Can we talk?” Carlos’s voice brushes over Max’s ear for a moment, before his hand pulls Max away from the party.    
  
“What? Why are you dragging me away?” Max says as he finds himself in one of the bedrooms of the house, panic punching against his ribcage.    
  
“I need you,” Carlos whispers, his fingers finding the top two buttons of Max’s shirt.    
  
Max pulls his hands away, shaking his head. “Why? What’s happening-”   
  
“I need a release,” Carlos whispers, his hands finding Max’s shirt once more. “I need you to kiss me, Maximilian,”   
  
“Carlos, you’re married, we can’t do this-” Max protests weakly as Carlos unbuttons his shirt, eyes taking in the pale skin before him.    
  
“It’s not a marriage, Max. It’s a convenience. He can fuck around, why can’t I?” Carlos says, his brown eyes boring into Max’s. “Please, it’s nothing serious, I just need you to touch me, to kiss me-” He whispers, guiding Max’s hands towards his shirt.    
  
Max finds himself unbuttoning the shirt slowly, taking in the tanned muscular chest before him. He feels a pang of guilt as he sees the Bratva marriage mark on his left side, over his heart, bonding him to Dany but Carlos’s warm hands envelope Max’s face, cupping it gently. Max stares into the warm brown eyes and as he’s about to protest, Carlos closes the gap, pressing their lips together. Max finds his hands dropping to slide around Carlos’s waist, pulling the Spaniard onto his lap as Carlos deepens the kiss, his lips are soft and warm against Max’s, sighing slightly as Max’s swollen cock brushes against him through his suit trousers.    
  
“Wanted this so badly,” Carlos whispers against Max’s lips as Max pulls him closer, his hands ghosting over the tanned skin, mapping out every inch as Carlos’s beard rubs over his skin. He licks over Carlos’s lips, salt dancing over his tongue as his hand moves up to tug through Carlos’s soft, dark curls. The other brushes over his brand for a moment, over his Bratva tattoo before pulling him closer. Carlos bites down on Max’s lips, eliciting a moan from the young Bratva prince. Max moans into the kiss as Carlos’s tongue glides past his lips - Max tries to imagine why Dany wouldn’t want this beautiful man kissing him, Carlos’s lips are warm, his curls are soft, his cock is hard against Max’s thigh. Max pulls his lips away, slowly kissing his way down Carlos’s neck, Carlos whines against him, extending his neck so that Max can trace over every vein.    
  
He feels Carlos’s hand slip down underneath his trousers, slip past the expensive material and moans against Carlos’s neck as his hand curves around his hardened cock, his finger gently playing with his balls, his thumb running down over the shaft, smearing the pre-come down the length of Max’s cock.   
  
“Fuck,” Max whispers against the skin as Carlos’s palm ghosts over his shaft and his warm fingers curl around the length of his dick. He gasps out as Carlos begins to slowly stroke him up and down, his thumb hovers over the slit of Max’s dick, more pre-come smearing over the digit as Carlos slowly begins to wank him off.    
  
“Right?” Carlos whispers before Max scrapes his teeth over his collarbone. “What are you doing?”   
  
“Marking you,” Max says in a gruff voice as Carlos continues to tease his cock, kneading it with his calloused fingers. “Marking you so you know who you belong to, right now,”   
  
“You,” Carlos whispers breathlessly, he squeezes Max’s dick tighter, the thrusts of his hand becoming faster and more pronounced, his finger rubbing slowly over the head of Max’s dick, before he dips down and plays with Max’s balls, his finger rubbing over them slowly before Max bites down on his neck, worries the soft, tanned skin against his lips. He pulls away, smiling in victory at the purple bruise he’s left on Carlos’s collarbone.   
  
Carlos continues to stroke Max’s cock, building up a steady rhythm before he tapers off once more, teasing, smirking as Max peppers kisses over his neck, sucking another lovebite into his chest, near his Bratva tattoo as Carlos’s fingers move over his shaft lazily, his finger ghosting over the slit.    
  
“I’m close,” Max whispers against Carlos’s skin.    
  
Carlos smirks as he pumps harder, his fingers squeezing, probing, pushing Max to the edge, his lips ghosting near Max’s ear as he strokes Max’s hardened cock, harder, faster, ready to release - Max leans back and comes against Carlos’s hand, feeling the orgasm wash over him, the warmth curling through his thighs as Carlos smirks triumphantly, the two lovebites standing out against his skin.    
  
“Max! Max!” Mitch’s panicked voice suddenly fills the room and Max barely has time to register before his big brother enters the bedroom. He takes in the sight of his baby brother with a half naked Carlos, takes in the lovebites on Carlos’s skin and Max’s wet trousers with wide eyes.    
  
“I need your help…”   
  


* * *

  
  
“What’s going on?” Max says, pulling his shirt back on as he glances at his brother with worry. Mitch looks a mess, his shirt is slightly ripped and bloody from his brand, his hair is a mess and his eyes are red and puffy.    
  
“Alex,” Mitch whispers, looking heartbroken. “I think that he and Christian made a deal...he agreed to marry me for the sake of the Bratva-”   
  
“Alex? But you guys dated for so long-” Max says, eyes narrowed.    
  
“It was all a lie...it was all a lie so Christian could marry me off. He paid his father for Alex to date me. I found the paperwork and the contract in our room, Alex tried to pretend he loved me but-” Mitch says, sobbing as he twists the wedding ring around on his finger. “I loved him, I loved him and he betrayed me-”   
  
“Mitch?” Alex’s voice suddenly appears outside the door.    
  
Mitch stiffens. 


	15. Shivers Down My Spine [Sebastian, Dan & Family]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian, Max and Mitch finds themselves in a tricky position. Mark wants to claim security for Mitch but how far will he go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarah here everyone! This was actually requested by an anon on tumblr who wanted "Seb is killed and his sons saw it." so warnings here for major character death, blood and the like. Mark is not a favourable character in this, but I needed someone with a motive to do this so Mark was the perfect choice. 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

Sebastian winces as he opens his eyes, the harsh bright light is strong against his face. He doesn’t remember much, remembers Mark smiling at him widely before it all seems to go dark. Brow furrowed, he glances around the room - Mark’s lounge - relaxing slightly against the couch. He was there to do a deal - to ensure that Mitch’s inheritance would remain intact, Mark wanted only the best for his only son and Sebastian understood his worry. He’d become more and more difficult with the arrival of Max into the family, worried over Mitch’s position in the Bratva. Sebastian had tried to convince him that Mitch would be looked after, but Mark wanted everything in writing, he wanted a contract.    
  
“You’re awake, darling,” Mark’s warm voice washes over him and knocks him out of his thoughts, he jolts slightly, glancing up at Mark. His tie is hanging slightly haphazardly around his neck and he’s grinning widely, the Beretta twisting between his long tanned fingers. Max is stood before him, his hands gently resting on the eleven year old’s shoulders. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake up and join the fun,”   
  
“What?” Sebastian says, confused. He blinks again, taking in the sight of his son. “What’s Max doing here?”   
  
“I sent for him, I thought he might want to join us,” Mark says, smiling widely, his hand still on Max’s shoulder. “He looks just like you, Sebastian,”   
  
“Mark, he shouldn’t be here,” Sebastian says, unsure why he feels so dizzy.    
  
“He didn’t want to miss this surprise, Sebby,” Mark grins, his hands tightening on Max’s shoulders.    
  
“I don’t understand-” Sebastian says, brow furrowed in confusion.   
  
“You wanted to discuss Mitchell’s future,” Mark says, pulling the gun out of his holster, the barrel close to Max’s temple. “So lets talk about this, shall we?”   
  
“Get that gun away from my son, Mark,” Sebastian hisses, still dizzy and disorientated. He moves to stand up but finds his feet won’t co-operate. He presses his hand to his temple, letting out a yell of pain as he collapses back into the couch cushions. “What have you done to me?”   
  
“Rohypnol is such an interesting drug,” Mark says, smirking. “Very easy to get hold of the cartel market, it’s amazing how many people want to buy it. A sedative, an anti-convulsant, a muscle relaxant all in one go. It leaves no taste in anything you put it in, like the glass of water that you asked for as you came in,”   
  
“Bastard,” Sebastian spits.    
  
“Now, now, Sebby, not in front of the children,” Mark grins, the gun pressing against Max harder. “I needed to make sure that you didn’t do anything stupid,”   
  
“Like what? Protect my son?” Sebastian says, glaring at his ex-lover. “Why are you doing this?”   
  
“I’m doing this for Mitchell,” Mark says, his gun still pressed against Max’s temple. “I’m doing this for our son, Sebastian. You remember him? Your firstborn son? I know that Christian intends to do away with his right to the Bratva throne, that he intends for dear Maximilian here to take up the reins when he’s older,”   
  
“You never wanted the Bratva life for Mitchell, neither of us did,” Sebastian argues.    
  
“I want him to have the same opportunities that Max will have, Sebastian. I could be killed at any time, I don’t trust you to look after him, not in the same way you look after Max,”   
  
“Mark-” Sebastian says quietly. “How could you say that? Mitchell is my son too-”   
  
“I know that,” Mark says, shaking his head. “But there’s being something bothering me recently. Say, if Mitchell and Maximilian are both in a room and you had to shoot one, to kill one of your sons, which one would it be?”   
  
“Jesus christ, Mark-” Sebastian says, still dizzy from the drug. “I couldn’t kill either of my sons, you know that-”   
  
“I thought you might say that,” Mark says, grinning. “That’s why I organised this little get together,” He continues, clicking his fingers once. The door slowly opens and a teenage Mitch is dragged through the door - he’s still half asleep, his dark curls are mussed and his eyes are a little hazed. They widen as he takes in the scene before him - his father with a gun to his baby brother’s head, his other father sitting on the couch, looking confused.    
  
“Father, what’s going on-” He says, still held in place by his father’s bodyguards.    
  
“Mitchell, right on time,” Mark says, grinning. “We’re a big happy family now,” He grabs onto Max, holding him tightly as the gun moves away to face his own son.    
  
“Dad-” Mitch begins, face paling.    
  
“Which one would you kill, Sebastian?” Mark says, ignoring his only son. “Would you kill our son? You never wanted him anyway, please your father, please everyone who doesn’t want a Webber as head of the Bratva. Or would you kill little Maximilian? Daniel would never forgive you though would he? If you killed your only son with your one true love-”   
  
“Kill me instead,” Sebastian yells out, tears beginning to fall down his cheeks. “Just kill me, just spare the boys,”   
  
“You always were a self-sacrificing bastard, weren’t you?” Mark says, smiling. “That’s why I fell in love with you, I suppose,”   
  
“Mark, please-” Sebastian whispers, the tears still flowing down his cheeks. “Please don’t do this, we can work out a contract-”   
  
“I don’t think so, Sebby,” Mark says, looking down to see Max sobbing silently against him, the tears slowly fall down his cheeks, his eyes - so much like Sebastian’s - wet with tears. “You see, you were never going to make it out of here alive and neither was your darling Maximilian,”   
  
“Dad, what are you talking about-” Mitch calls out, struggling against the bodyguards. “What is going on?”   
  
Mark fixes his only son with a glare. “You will be silent, Mitchell. I need you to stay calm and -”   
  
“Dad, you can’t do this,” Mitch says, brown eyes narrowed in distrust. He pauses as Mark holds onto Max tighter with one hand, his other hand moving to slap Mitch across the face, his eyes burning.   
  
“Don’t interrupt me again, Mitchell,” Mark growls as Mitch’s hand rubs at his reddening cheek, his eyes on his father.    
  
“Dad-”   
  
“Silence,” Mark spits. “You’re going to become a man tonight, Mitchell. You’re going to take the first steps into Bratvahood, just as your father and grandfather would have wanted,”   
  
“Mark, he’s a fucking child-” Sebastian argues, eyes burning.    
  
“He’s fourteen years old, Sebastian. He’s at the Bratva age. He will kill you and he will kill Maximilian and he will inherit his rightful position as heir of the Bratva,”   
  
“I won’t do it, Dad, I won’t kill my family-” Mitch screams out, fighting against the bodyguards, his eyes dark with fury. “I will not harm my family,”   
  
“You will do as you’re told, Mitchell,” Mark hisses, eyes dark with anger. “You don’t want to let our family down do you?”    
  
“Dad, we don’t have to do this,” Mitch says, tears springing to his cheeks. “We don’t have to-”   
  
“Mitchell, enough,” Mark snaps as he signals for one of the bodyguards to let go of his teenage son. He thrusts Max at them, barely looking at the eleven year old. “Handcuff him up to that armchair. I need to be sure that he won’t escape or move,” He says crisply.    
  
“Dad, what have you done to Maxy? What are you going to do?” Mitch says, tears still falling down his cheeks as he watches his baby brother be pushed to the floor, his pale thin wrist clamped inside a handcuff. He remains quiet and subdued, looking down at the floor.    
  
“He’s just been given a little sedative that’s just wearing off now,” Mark says, eyeing the other bodyguard. “You may leave now. Everything is settled,” He says, watching the man leave the room. Mitch waits for the door to close before he advances on Mark, fighting against his father, a wounded screams falls from his lips. However, his teenage body is no match for his fathers and Mark grabs hold of him around the throat. He snarls out, as Mark’s fingers dig into his windpipe and he gasps for breath, fighting to get gulps of air into his body.    
  
“You will do as you’re told,” Mark hisses, eyes dangerous as his thumb compresses into Mitch’s airway. “You will become a man tonight, Mitchell,”   
  
Mitch gasps out for air, feeling his vision begin to blur, can hear the shouts of Sebastian in the distance before his father pulls his hand away and he leans over, taking in gulps of air. However, within seconds, his father wrenches him upright by his shoulder and forces a Beretta into his son’s hand.    
  
“Dad, please-” Mitch whispers, tears streaking down his face before he’s cut off by another slap to the face. He almost drops the gun onto the carpet.    
  
“Make our family proud son, do your duty, become the person your father and I always wanted you to be,” Mark says calmly, watching his son cry in front of him, the gun shaking slightly as he lifts it up and points it at Sebastian. “Good boy,”   
  
“Dad, please don’t make me do this-” Mitch pleads, his body shaking with spasms as he holds the gun tightly, his knuckles almost white from the pressure.    
  
“Mitchell-” His father’s voice seems to fade away as the only sound in the room that fills Mitch’s head is that of his own ragged breathing. The gun is heavy in his hands, the metal is cold and cuts into his fingers. He sobs harder, looking down at his father lying on the couch, looking at him with fearful blue eyes. Mitch watches his chest rise and fall, his eyes locked on Mitch, they never waver.    
  
“It’s okay, Mitch,” Sebastian whispers. “It’s okay, son,”   
  
Mitch shakes his head and lowers the gun, tears streaking down his face. “I can’t, I can’t do this-”   
  
“Mitchell, if you don’t kill your father, I will shoot your brother,” Mark hisses dangerously, another gun appearing from nowhere. Mitch closes his eyes as he hears the click of the safety catch coming off. “I’m waiting, Mitchell,”   
  
Mitch takes a deep breath, tries to calm down his heart beating rapidly against his chest as he lifts the gun once more, the barrel on his father. Sebastian says nothing, he looks calm in that moment - almost serene, as though he’s accepted his fate. He sobs once more before he squeezes the finger, thinks about his father’s eyes, devoid of life, staring back to him -    
  
Another breath. The metal is cold.   
  
“I can’t,” He sobs, dropping the gun down on the carpet in front of him, fresh tears falling down his cheeks. “I can’t do it, Dad,”   
  
He prepares himself for another hit, another slap from his father but it doesn’t come. Mark glances at him once before he growls, pressing himself forward. “Fine, I will kill him myself, Mitchell. You can have the honour of murdering your brother,”   
  
“No, no-” Mitch screams as he feels his father’s arms encircle him, holding down his flailing limbs as he punches and kicks, tries to get away from his father, tries to use his fingernails like he was taught, anything to escape. Mark snarls like a wounded animal as Mitch’s fingernails catch his face and Mitch sees his father’s angry dark eyes before the butt of his father’s gun comes down on his temple and the world goes black. Mark huffs as Mitch collapses against him, knocked out from the blow to his temple.    
  
“That was necessary,” Mark says, his eyes on Sebastian as he throws his son to the floor. Mitch lands in a heap by Max’s feet, eyes closed, bruise already beginning to form on his temple.    
  
“To knock out your own son?” Sebastian says, glaring at the man he once loved. “To knock out our son because he refused to do something?”   
  
“Enough,” Mark spits. “I won’t have you commenting on how to parent my son, Sebastian,”   
  
“ _ Our _ son, Mark,” Sebastian argues back, his eyes dancing between Max, still handcuffed to the armchair and Mitch still lying at his feet. He wonders where Daniel is, if he even knows that they’re missing, if Mark’s henchmen did something to his husband.    
  
“I’m tired of this small talk,” Mark says. “I’m tired of you trying to prolong your life and your son’s life,” He turns slightly on his heel and begins walking over to Max, his fingers tightening around the trigger as he stares at the young eleven year old. “I’ll kill your son in front of you, Sebastian. Then I’ll kill you. Maybe darling Daniel will find you both,” The grin stretches over his face as he lifts the gun and points it to Max’s head.    
  
Max cries harder, his hand still curled around Mitch’s as he looks down at the cartel boss, the barrel of the gun seems to taunt him. He sobs harder, calls out for Sebastian. Mark smirks wider, his finger finding the trigger. He’s about to squeeze when he feels someone knock into him, their arms curving around his neck, pushing the gun away from Max. Mark smirks as he fights back, smells the familiar cologne against his nostrils, the blonde hair floating against his skin.    
  
“You always were a little fighter, Sebby. That’s why I fell in love with you,” He hisses, trying to wrench Sebastian’s hands away.   
  
However, what the blonde lacks in strength, he makes up for agility, his hands swooping out to disarm Mark. The Australian hisses as the gun is knocked out of his hands - Sebastian’s fingernails ripping into his skin. He grabs Sebastian by the shirt, wrenching him around, pressing him against his chest, his muscles heaving as they tighten around, trying to soak up the fight from Sebastian.    
  
Sebastian however, fights back, tries to headbutt Mark, who dodges the attack, his hold tightening on Sebastian, his hands leaving bruises on the pale skin. Sebastian tries to kick out at Mark’s knee in his desperation to escape. He pants out, thinks about Daniel smiling at him, thinks about how happy they were together, about baby Max taking his first steps - Max, he has to survive for Max - he screams out once more and aims punches at Mark, hits the muscle over and over again, hears Mark’s pained gasps as his touch loosens ever so slightly. He’s about to wrench himself away when Mark grabs him again, his fingers tightening over his skin. He glances up at his son, looks into his eyes one more time, sees the gun in his eleven year old boy’s hands.    
  
“Max-” He whispers as Max, still shaking with fear, tears running down his face, angles the gun at the two struggling men. “Max, just shoot-” He calls out, still struggling against Mark’s grip. He angles his elbow to catch Mark in the chest with the hope of winding him, glancing at Max who still is holding the gun in his hands.    
  
“Maximilian! Just shoot!” He calls out, his elbow catching Mark just as his son gathers enough energy to press down the trigger of the gun. He fires three times, one after the other. Time sees to stop in that moment, Sebastian watches as the recoil catches Max off guard, his eyes widening at the sheer force exerted through the gun. However, Sebastian feels dizzy once more, the lights seem to blur before him, his son’s eyes fill with worry as he looks down at his shirt and sees the red blood staining through the white material.    
  
“Daddy!” Sebastian hears his son’s scream as his knees hit the floor.    
  
“Daddy-” Max mutters again, dropping the gun to the floor as he watches Sebastian collapse onto the floor, blood staining his shirt, his eyes closing slightly. Mark follows him, groaning in pain, blood blossoming from his shoulder. Max looks down at the gun lying innocently on the floor and tries to reach his father, lying motionless on the floor. The handcuff cuts into his wrist and he cries out in pain, wishes for his father to walk through the door. He glances down at his brother, still lying on the floor and shakes him, feeling the tears fall down his cheeks.    
  
“Mitchy, please wake up!” He screams, shaking his big brother. “Mitchy, please,” He whispers, crying harder and shaking Mitch harder.    
  
“Mitchy!” He screams out, wanting nothing more than to see his brother’s warm brown eyes. He wonders if Mitch is dead, if he will never see Mitch’s smile again, if he will never hear his brother’s laugh again. Fresh tears fall down his cheeks as he shakes his brother one last time.    
  
“Mitchy, please-” He cries, his head falling against his brother’s shoulder, tears rolling down his cheeks.    
  
“Maxy?” A small faint voice pipes up. Max looks up in disbelief to find warm brown eyes staring back at him. Mitch is a little disorientated, his eyes struggle to focus on Max.    
  
“Maxy, what’s going on?” Mitch says, trying to pull his brother closer to him and frowning as Max hisses in pain, the metal encircling his wrist cutting into his pale skin. Mitch frowns heavily as he carefully examines Max’s wrist trapped within the handcuff.    
  
“We need to- Dad-” Max begins, crying.    
  
“We need to get you out,” He says, almost to himself. He almost falls against Max’s chest, still confused and disorientated as he pulls his trusty lock-pick out of the pocket of his jeans. Max stays silent as Mitch works carefully - he knows his big brother has known how to pick locks since he was twelve. He works slower today, his hands aren’t as sure as he lines up the pick and jiggles it around in the lock, his eyes are still struggling to focus and Max bites down on his lip with worry as Mitch finally jiggles the lock-pick enough for the metal to spring open.    
  
Mitch frowns as his thumb strokes over Max’s bloody wrist. “What happened?”   
  
Max shakes his head. “I’m fine. Dad’s hurt-”    
  
“What-” Mitch begins before he turns his eyes over to where Sebastian is lying, blood spreading out underneath him. “Shit. Shit,”   
  
“What do we do?” Max sobs as Mitch crawls over to where their father is lying. “What should we do?”   
  
“Try and stop the bleeding,” Mitch says, trying to stay calm for the sake of his brother. He tears off his plaid shirt and balls it up, pressing it against his father’s wounds, tears falling down his cheeks. Sebastian coughs underneath him, his eyes flying open in surprise before they soften at the sight of his sons before him.    
  
“Mitchell?” Sebastian says, blinking once before coughing again, struggling to get breath into his lungs. “Mitchell, you have to promise me that you’ll look after your brother,”   
  
“Papi-” Mitch says, tears springing up in his eyes. “Papi, don’t say things like that-”   
  
Sebastian’s hands folds over Mitch’s and his blue eyes meet his sons. “You have to stay strong for Max, okay? Be a good boy won’t you?”   
  
“Papi-” Mitch says, tears falling down onto Sebastian’s face. “Papi, no-”   
  
“Mitchell,” Another voice pipes up, it’s pained. Mitch freezes as he watches his father climb up from the floor, holding onto his shoulder and wincing slightly. His brown eyes fall on Mitch, on his hand wrapped around Sebastian’s. “Mitchell, we have to go-”   
  
“I’m not going anywhere with you, you killed my father,” Mitch hisses, hands tightening around Sebastian’s. “You murderer,”   
  
“You killed him, Mitch,” Mark roars back. “You don’t remember anything do you? You killed your father, murdered him like you were supposed to,”   
  
“No he didn’t! It was my fault!” Max screams at the side of Mitch, face red from anger.   
  
“I should kill you, Ricciardo-Vettel,” Mark snarls. “You’re just like your other father, too much mouth,”   
  
“You won’t lay a finger on him,” Mitch says, pulling Max to him protectively. “I won’t let you-”   
  
“Okay,” Mark says, moving closer to the brothers, still huddled by their bloody father. Mitch bares his teeth, prepares to stand his ground but his father’s hand curls around his bicep, wrenching him away from his brother. “You’re coming with me, Mitchell. That’s an order,”   
  
“I’m not going anywhere with you, murderer,” Mitch spits.    
  
“Well, you couldn’t possibly stay here with your brother, Mitchell. You killed your father, you shot him,” Mark hisses against his son’s ear, holding him close to stop him from struggling.    
  
“Liar!” Mitch roars, trying to fight against his father’s hold.    
  
“You murdered him, Mitchell! Became a monster like me! Your father would never love you now. How could he love a murderer like you, Mitch?”   
  
“No, no-” Mitch whispers, struggling against his father’s hold. “No, that’s not true-”   
  
“You killed him, Mitch,” Mark hisses, dragging his son away.   
  
Max screams out, still holding onto Sebastian, watching the blood drip away as he watches his brother getting dragged away from him.    
  
“Mitchy!” He calls out, screaming as loud as he can but Mark continues to drag his brother away. His screams are soon muffled by the door closing behind him. Max sobs louder as he’s left in darkness and silence. He dips his head down, crying as he snuggles up against his father, against the blood still pouring from his wounds.    
  
“Daddy?” He sobs, burying his head against his father’s chest. “Daddy, please wake up,”   
  
However, Sebastian doesn’t say anything. Max cries harder, buries his face into Sebastian’s chest, pretending that he’s asleep. He finds himself drifting off, tears still falling down his cheeks, sobs still racking his tiny frame. He finds himself floating off to sleep, trying to ignore the blood seeping into his t-shirt, trying to ignore where Mitch is gone, if Mark has hurt him.    
  
“Sebastian? Max? Sebastian!” A voice pulls him back from the veil of sleep and Max blinks open sleepy eyes as the worried face of his father comes into view, the worried brown eyes are wide as they pat over Max’s bloodied shirt.    
  
“Are you hurt, little man?” His father’s voice cuts through as he frantically tears open Max’s shirt, fingers skimming over the porcelain skin with relief.    
  
“It’s Dad-” Max whispers, tears threatening to roll down his face once more. He watches his father’s eyes widen as he carefully pulls back the plaid shirt covering Sebastian’s chest. “Oh god,” his father whispers, tears forming in the corners of his eyes as he places it back on, pressing hard against the wound.   
  
“Seb? Seb can you hear me?” He says, his tone sharp. “Sebastian?”   
  
“Dad, is he-” Max begins, looking down at his father’s pale face.   
  
“What happened?” His father’s tone is harsh as he presses harder on the wound. “What happened, Max?”   
  
“Mark took us, said he was going to kill Dad and I,” Max says, unable to keep himself from sobbing. “I shot him, Dad told me to. He took Mitch,”   
  
His father looks furious for a moment, his jaw clenching as he once again tries to stir Sebastian, his fingers fold over Sebastian’s wrist and he measures his pulse before cursing. “Sebastian, c’mon, please, don’t leave me-”   
  
“Daniel?” A faint thready voice breaks through the silence.   
  
“Sebastian,” Daniel whispers, brushing the pale hand against his cheek. “I’m here, I’m here. Stay with me,”   
  
Sebastian coughs, his whole body wrenching with spasms, his eyes struggling to stay open. “Daniel, you have to get Mitch back,”   
  
“Seb-” Daniel squeezes his hand tightly. “We’ll get him back together,”   
  
Sebastian shakes his head. “Daniel, you have to promise to look after Max and to get Mitch back, you’re his family, he needs you,”   
  
“But I need you-” Daniel cuts in, tears falling down his cheeks. “Don’t leave me, Seb. Don’t leave me and Max-”   
  
“I’m sorry,” Sebastian whispers, glancing up to his husband. “I love you, Daniel,” He continues before his blue eyes slowly close and his body goes lax against Daniel.    
  
“Seb? Seb?” Daniel shakes his husband as though to rouse him. But Sebastian doesn’t wake, his eyes remain closed. “Seb, please-” Daniel cries out in desperation. “What about me? What about Max and Mitch? Seb-” His voice breaks on the last word as he cuddles his husband to him and lets out an ear-piercing scream. Max feels his heart break at the sight of his father holding the lifeless body of his other father to him, sobbing his heart out.    
  
Sebastian is dead.    



	16. Promises [Sebastidan]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just pure fluff because all I've been doing lately is writing angst and destroying everyone, so figured something nice was in order. Warning because this is too cute and you will die from sweetness. Enjoy :) - Emma (princessrosberg)

"Let me see"

When Daniel sees the look in Sebastian’s eyes, he doesn't dare protest against his husband, and sighs slightly as he lifts up his shirt. Sebastian’s fingers gently press against his skin, running across the sensitive area just below his heart - across the Bratva mark.

It's been 3 days since the two married, since Sebastian marked him out with the brand of Bratva and tied Daniel to the family until his death. Daniel whinces slightly when Sebastian's finger catches against one of the scabs, fresh blood blossoming up from the open cut.

"Shit, sorry honey"

Sebastian says softly, smiling apologetically as he wipes away the fresh blood with his thumb. Daniel laughs quietly in response, watching his husband carefully look over the brand on his chest. It's fine really, it's scabbed over now and isn't bothering him, but Sebastian always was one to worry and Daniel doesn't have the energy to fight against him.

"It's healing good, much better than mine did anyway, I think it'll be fully healed in a few days"

Daniel smiles back in response, curling his arms around Sebastian’s shoulder and pulls him down onto the bed beside him. Sebastian smiles back, his hand reaching out to brush Daniel's curls away from his face.

"God, what did I do to deserve you"

Sebastian mumbles, closing his eyes and shifting slightly to rest his head against Daniel's chest. Daniel curls his arms around his husband, presses a kiss against his hair and lets his own eyes drift shut.

"Well if you're really asking, you helped me around university a long time ago, and even if you were two years above me you couldn't stop bumping into me could you Sebastian?"

"Hey its not my fault you were so good looking!"

Sebastian punches his hand against Daniel softly, a soft laugh escaping his lips before he settles back down next to Daniel. Daniel opens his eyes, glancing down at the blonde curled up next to him, at his thick eyelashes and pink cheeks.

"Do you remember when you fell in love with me Seb?"

"Of course I do. I remember the exact moment I fell in love with you"

Daniel smiles slightly, his fingers dipping down to rest against Sebastian’s hips, running against the soft skin. Sebastian moans quietly in response, a smile ghosting across his lips.

"You were in your second year, 19 years old and we were at the park at about 10 o'clock at night-"

" _Seb_ "

"Oh no, you asked if I remember so I'm telling you"

Daniel sighs in defeat, but the smile is still across his face.

"We were on the swings and I was telling you about my family, scared that you'd reject me and run away. Do you remember what you said?"

"Of course I do, no matter what I'll always be by your side Sebastian, I promise"

"And you kept that promise"

Daniel presses a kiss against Sebastian’s hair, his hand brushing through the soft golden locks, his other still gently running across the skin across his hip.

"I plan to keep that promise forever Sebastian"

Sebastian’s eyes flutter open, his head tilting backwards slightly to press his lips against Daniel's. Daniel smiles against him, their lips gently rubbing together. Sebastian’s touch is soft, almost hesitant as he kisses back, hands reaching up to curl into Daniel's hair. They part for breath too soon, Daniel already missing the feel of Sebastian’s soft lips beneath his own.

"What about you? When did you fall in love with me Daniel?"

Sebastian says, resting his head back against Daniel's chest, looking up into his soft brown eyes.

"Well, I knew I was interested in you the moment I saw you. But I fell in love with you when we went to the fair together do you remember?"

Sebastian laughs slightly, smiling in response.

"Yeah, my dad insisted that I had bodyguards because he didn't trust you, but you had no idea what kind of fucked up life I was leading back then, so I managed to talk him out of it"

"Good luck trying to talk Christian out of that now"

"Hey he's not that bad-"

"Seb how many times did I have to be strip searched before I could even step foot on your grounds nevermind see you?"

"It's not my fault my dad loves me Daniel"

Daniel just rolls his eyes, closing them once again and pulling Sebastian's closer against his body. Sebastian hums in response, his hair tickling against the side of his neck. He's still exhausted from the wedding, from the suit fitting and weapon choosing, so it's nice to have alone time with his husband.

 ****Sebastian’s breathing seems to have evened out, a sign that's he's drifted off into a light sleep, and Daniel can start to feel himself being lulled to sleep.

"I love you darling"

He whispers, pressing a kiss against Sebastian’s forehead before he too closes his eyes and sleeps through the evening, curled up around his husband, hand resting against the brand across his chest, the one that connects the two for forever and a day.


	17. Hide and Seek [Max & Mitch]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 fics in less than 12 hours! How amazing am i tbh. This is for Sarah really who wanted some more brothers so enjoy :) - Emma (princessrosberg)

“Count to 20 then come find me okay?”   
  
Max nods and smiles up at his older brother, turning around and placing his hands over his eyes as be begins counting. His parents - Daniel and Sebastian - had gone to pick something up apparently, though they never told Max what it was, and he wasn’t one to ask. He’s wanted to, on a number of occasions really after seeing the change in the two of them, how his daddy will hide things and be more secretive, the fact he’s  _ never  _ been allowed to go with them when they’re  _ picking up a delivery.  _ If it was up to him, he’d be asking a million and one questions - why his parents and grandparents each have their own gun, why he’s not allowed to know who his brothers other parent is and what exactly his family is hiding from him. Max shakes his head, forcing the thoughts away and dashes out his bedroom in search of his big brother. He knows exactly where to look - Mitch always was terrible at hide and seek - and sets off towards his parents study. Max pushes open the heavy wooden door, squeezing through the gap and glances around the room.    
  
“Mitchy?”   
  
He calls out, waiting to hear the soft giggles of his 12 year old brother, but all he’s met with is silence. Max frowns slightly - he was so sure Mitch would be hiding in here, underneath the desk like he always would be - but there’s no sign of him anywhere. Max tries to think where else his brother could be hiding, what other rooms they were allowed in, until he hears Mitch crying his name. It sounds pained, desperate almost, and Max runs outside onto the landing to glance around.   
  
“Mitchy! What’s wrong?”  

Max calls back, panic rising up when he can't see his 12 year old brother anywhere.   
  
"Max!"    
  
He hears his brother's voice from downstairs, hears him scream and something smash against the floor. Max doesn't know what to do, he hasn't got any way to contact his parents, and he's too scared to go downstairs - all he wants to do is hide under the covers of his bed and wait for his Daddy to return home.   
  
"Max please! I-"    
  
Mitch's shouts die off into a muffled scream, something else smashes against the floor and Max is about to hide away until he faintly hears another voice. He plucks up all the courage he can find, his hands shaking as he heads down the stairs, slowly and quietly. He isn’t sure what to expect, Mitch’s cries are still echoing through the house, though they’re much more quiet now - almost like something was covering his mouth. He freezes when he’s halfway down the stairs, someone has hold of his brother, dragging his limp body through the living room. There’s a bruise on his forehead and blood across his lip. Max is about to creep back upstairs, until the man locks eyes with him, his ice blue eyes cutting straight through Max. He worries his lip between his teeth, hands shaking as he takes one step backwards before stumbling up the rest of the stairs, the man swearing as he follows in his track. He runs down the hall, disappearing into his parents study. Max doesn’t know why he grabs his father’s revolver from the drawer, or why he’s shakily pushing the golden bullets into the chamber - a sense of security perhaps. He pushes himself underneath the desk before the door opens.   
  
“Oh  _ Maxy, _ I know you’re hiding here, come on out and this can be  _ so  _ much easier”   
  
He hears the man speak, their voice thick with an accent he doesn’t recognise.    
  
“I’m sorry i haven’t introduced myself yet, I’m Valtteri, and i’ve been sent here to pick up the two beautiful Bratva princes, i’ve heard you’re worth a lot of money if sold to the right buyer”    
  
Max bites back his sobs, hoping that the man leaves so he can run down the stairs to grab his brother and bolt out the front door. However the man - Valtteri - seems to know exactly where Max is hiding, his hand curls around his ankle to yank him out from under the desk.    
  
“There you are darling”   
  
Valtteri grins down at him, bending down to snatch the gun away. However Max is much quicker - all the times he’d ran away from his parents finally coming to use - and he manages to roll out of the way, his free hand shakily pulling open the door. He doesn’t make it that far, Valtteri grabs at him once again, his hand curling around the gun in Max’s hand, and he has to use all the strength he can find to keep it in his own hands.    
  
“Get off me!”    
  
Max cries, tears dripping down onto his cheeks as he tries to wrestle himself out of Valtteri’s grip, kicking his feet against his body in the hopes he’ll drop him.    
  
“Now now Maxy, we need to calm down don’t we? Wouldn’t want to damage your pretty little face”    
  
He feels something press over his mouth, the smell is strong and his vision is starting to slowly fade to black. Max starts to panic, his finger fumbles against the gun, trying his hardest to fire it and scare Valtteri off. He catches it against the trigger, pulling down against the metal. The noise is  _ so  _ loud in his ear, he’d never heard a gun go off before - not in real life anyway - and he hadn’t expected it to be so ear piercingly loud. The noise is almost painful, ringing loudly in his ears and Max scrambles away from him when the grip loosens. He can feel something wet across his face, and when he reaches up to touch it, his fingertips are red with blood and Max doesn’t chance a look back, instead darting back down the stairs to find his brother.   
  
“Mitch!”   
  
He cries out when he sees Mitch try to push himself up from the floor. He drops down next to his older brother to look over him, arms curling around his neck to pull him into a hug.   
  
“Max? What happened?”   
  
Mitch pulls away slightly, glancing down at the blood now staining his shirt before looking back at Max.    
  
“I-I didn’t mean to Mitchy! He wouldn’t let go, an-and i-”   
  
Max trails off, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes. Mitch pulls him back into a hug, holding him close and running his hand soothingly through his hair.    
  
“Hey it’s okay, you protected me Maxy and where would i of been if you wasn’t here?”   
  
Max cries louder, burying his head against Mitch’s shirt and clinging to his older brother as if he’s afraid to lose him again.    
  
“But Mitchy, wh-what is daddy-”   
  
“Shh, it’s fine, you don’t have to worry”   
  
Max is about to protest again, but he hears the front door click open and clings onto Mitch tighter in worry, because how on  _ earth _ was he going to explain this to his parents? He turns his head slightly, enough to look over to his parents. Daniel and Sebastian are stood in the doorway, frozen in place with looks of horror across their faces.    
  
“What happened to you two?”   
  
Daniel says, dropping the case to the floor and dashing over to the two, curling his arms around his two boys. Max clings to his daddy, wailing against his shirt as Mitch tries to calm him down more.    
  
“Dad? I think it’s time we tell him”   
  
Max hears Mitch's voice from his side, confused as to what exactly his older brother was talking about. His daddy picks him up from the floor, holding him tight in his arms and running his hand across his back. Max just wants to get a bubble bath with his brother and go to bed, to forget about what had happened and sleep until the new day arrived, but he sees the look on his father’s face - Sebastian’s eyes looking almost apologetic - and he sighs in defeat.    
  
“You’re right Mitchell”   
  
Max can only watch in confusion as his daddy carries him up the stairs, blood still clinging to the tips of his hair.    



	18. Rain, Rain [Sebastidan Family]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian and Daniel explore one another's bodies after a month apart...but Mitch and Max have other ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarah here! I'm tired and got a headache but I really really wanted to post some fluffy Bratva. This is for two people really; Emma for finishing her exams, (I am so so proud of you) and for Lewis, who wanted something a little less bloody and violent in this universe. As always, enjoy! :)

The rain is pelting against the windows as Daniel leans his head back against the pillow, glancing up at his husband, his name barely threading through parted lips.    
  
“Sebastian-” He whispers, arching into his husband’s touch as the lightning flashes once more, followed by a crack of thunder, illuminating their bedroom. Sebastian smirks, his hand rubbing over Daniel’s chest, over the Bratva brand that ties them together, over the seven pointed star inked into his tanned skin. His fingers find Daniel’s nipple, teasing it with his thumb as Daniel gasps out underneath him, his hardened cock rubbing against his boxer shorts, the material slightly wet from Daniel’s pre-come. Sebastian looks down at his husband with hungry eyes, looks over at his golden neck stretched out against the pillow, his eyes half lidded, his lips parted, Sebastian’s name pressing over them.   
  
“Daniel, tell me what you want-” Sebastian whispers as the thunder comes again, the rain still drumming against the windowpanes. It’s been a month since they’ve seen each other, since Sebastian had last touched his husband’s skin. He carefully rubs his finger over Daniel’s nipple, making the younger man gasp out, his cock still hardened, brushing against his boxers. “I missed you so much-”   
  
“You wanted that shipment sorting and of course, I dispatched of Raikkonen as requested,”   
  
Sebastian smirks. “I love it when you talk like that to me,” His hand moves down over Daniel’s stomach, over the scar that he acquired saving their son’s life, dancing down over the dark hair covering his abdomen.    
  
“Seb, please-” Daniel whispers, his eyes boring into his husband’s as Sebastian smiles,his hand slipping down under Daniel’s thin cotton boxer shorts. Daniel gasps at the sensation as Sebastian’s hand folds around his swollen, wet cock. He parts his legs a little more, his head pressing into the pillow as he fights the urge to moan out loud.    
  
“You’re beautiful,” Sebastian whispers, leaning in to capture his husband’s lips in a kiss, Daniel’s lips folding against his own as they kiss frantically, his hand curving over Daniel’s shaft, beginning to pump his husband in a rhythm, the pre-come slipping over his fingers. Daniel whines down underneath him, his legs falling open, Sebastian’s hand wrapped around his cock as Sebastian presses his lips over Daniel’s stubbled jaw, enveloping the tanned skin in kisses. However, as his tongue traces over Daniel’s skin, he hears a small noise. He pauses for a moment, listening intently. Daniel looks up at him, eyes full of confusion.    
  
“Seb, what-” Daniel begins but Sebastian silences him with his kiss, moving his hand to grasp at the Beretta he keeps hidden under his pillow. The noise comes again and Sebastian narrows his eyes as he flips over, his hand moving away from Daniel’s cock to focus the barrel of the gun on the door. His finger squeezes the trigger as the door swings open, revealing a familiar tiny figure with messy black hair in his Red Bull onesie, wide brown eyes - Mark’s eyes - staring at the gun in his father’s hand.    
  
“Daddy?” Mitch says, his lip wobbling as he looks at his father. Another crack of thunder echoes through the room and the five year old flinches at the loud noise, his eyes take in the raindrops hitting the windowpanes. Sebastian immediately watches his son in horror as he lowers the gun, tucking it in amongst the sheets. He feels Dan quickly pull the sheets over himself quickly.    
  
“Mitch? What are you doing up buddy?” He asks carefully.    
  
“The scary noises woke me up, Daddy,” Mitch whispers as another flash of lightning lights up the room. Sebastian sees the tears on his son’s cheeks as Mitch runs over to the bed and jumps up into the sheets, finding comfort in his father’s bare chest.    
  
“Mitch-” Sebastian says as Mitch clatters against his chest, wetness soaking into his bare skin. “Mitchy, you’re safe,” He whispers, rubbing his son’s back in a soothing motion. Mitch clings to him, his face buried against his skin, flinching as another clap of thunder tears through the air. “It’s okay, Mitch,”   
  
“I was scared the bad men had come back,” Mitch sobs as Sebastian carefully strokes back the thick dark curls.    
  
“Never, Mitch. You’re safe here,” Sebastian whispers, feeling the tears form in his eyes as he gently brushes his hand through Mitch’s thick, soft hair.    
  
“Can I stay here with you and Dan?” Mitch asks, glancing up at his father with his big brown eyes. “I’m scared,”   
  
Sebastian feels himself give up instantly, sparing a sympathetic glance to his husband who is surveying the young five year old with fondness. “What do you think Daniel? Do you think we should let him?” He says in a teasing voice.   
  
Daniel shakes his head. “Don’t be mean, Seb. He’s scared,”   
  
“You can stay here, little buddy,” Sebastian says, brushing back his son’s hair carefully. There’s another noise from the hallway and Sebastian stiffens, holding Mitch close to his chest as he draws the gun out from the sheets, pointing it at the door. He narrows his eyes, Mitch sobbing against his chest in fright, before Daniel pulls the gun down.    
  
“Daniel, what the fu-” Sebastian begins but he’s silenced as he sees Max stands in the doorway in his Ferrari pyjamas, holding onto his beloved bull plushie, Toro. He glances at his brother clinging to Sebastian, at the gun in his hand.   
  
“Daddy, you’re having a pillow fight without me?” He says, pouting slightly. Daniel snorts at the side of Sebastian at the sight of his son looking so much like his husband.    
  
“Maxy?” Mitch pulls his face away from his father’s chest.    
  
“You all were all noisy,” Max says in a matter-of-fact voice. “I was sleeping,” He pulls Toro closer to him, surveying his parents and brother with narrowed blue eyes.    
  
“We’re sorry little dude,” Daniel says as another thud of thunder ripples through the air and both boys flinch at the sound. Max shuffles closer, his grip still tight on the plush bull.    
  
“You want to come in too?” Daniel asks as the two year old approaches the side of the bed. Max nods once, his mouth clamping around Toro’s ear as his father lifts him into the bed, cradling the toddler against his chest.   
  
“Daddy, what is that noise?” Mitch says.    
  
Sebastian opens his mouth and closes it again, thinking of the best way to explain a thunderstorm to his young children.   
  
“It’s the clouds bumping into each other,” Daniel cuts in, stroking Max’s hair softly. The toddler is sucking his thumb, resting against his tanned chest, his face pressing against the Bratva tattoo. “The clouds are a little silly sometimes,”   
  
“Doesn’t it hurt them?” Mitch asks, wide eyed.    
  
“No, they’re pretty soft,” Daniel says, smiling. “They are like you and Max, they’re very noisy,”   
  
“We’re not noisy!” Max mutters from Daniel’s side before he yawns widely.    
  
“I think it’s bedtime,” Daniel says, looking down at his son fondly. Mitch opens his mouth to complain but a yawn escapes and he snuggles into Sebastian’s chest. The two men lay down their sons in the middle of the bed - the two brothers instinctively curl up around each other, Mitch protectively cuddling up next to Max. The two men find themselves watching the two young Bratva princes go to sleep, the room soon filled with their tiny snores. Sebastian finds Daniel’s hand in the darkness, the two men smiling softly at each other as they watch their sons sleep, Mitch inching closer to his baby brother as though to protect him.   
  
“I can’t believe we got interrupted again-” Sebastian whispers, blue eyes locking on brown.    
  
“We’ll have all the time in the world when they’re older,” Daniel says, squeezing his husband’s hand.    
  
“You mean, when we’re old and shooting away their boyfriends or girlfriends for not being good enough?” Sebastian says, grinning.    
  
Daniel shakes his head. “You’re not shooting anyone, Sebby. Your dad never shot me for sleeping with you,”   
  
“He wanted to put a cap in you, Daniel,” Sebastian says, looking down at his sons. “And I’ll do the same for my princes,”   
  
“You softie,” Daniel whispers. The rain slows against the windowpanes, the two mens hands still entwined over their sleeping sons. 


	19. Sorry [Mitch/Alex]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitch and Alex work through their newlywed problems, Max isn't impressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a continuation from chapter 14. Alex and Mitch married, but only because a contract was signed between Alex and Christian to marry Mitch off, leaving Max as heir to the Bratva. A big thank you to Emma, Amy and Lewis for getting me through this week, love you guys.  
> Enjoy! :)

_“Alex,” Mitch whispers, looking heartbroken. “I think that he and Christian made a deal...he agreed to marry me for the sake of the Bratva-”_

_“Alex? But you guys dated for so long-” Max says, eyes narrowed._

_“It was all a lie...it was all a lie so Christian could marry me off. He paid his father for Alex to date me. I found the paperwork and the contract in our room, Alex tried to pretend he loved me but-” Mitch says, sobbing as he twists the wedding ring around on his finger. “I loved him, I loved him and he betrayed me-”_

_“Mitch?” Alex’s voice suddenly appears outside the door._  
  
_Mitch stiffens._

* * *

  
  
Max feels the anger surge through his chest at the sound of Alex’s voice outside the door, he looks once more at his older brother, at the red blood soaking into his white shirt, at his red rimmed eyes and his face hardens as he moves over to the door, his hands balling into fists.   
  
However, a warm hand closes around his wrist. “Don’t, Max,” Mitch whispers, his brown eyes pleading.   
  
“He hurt you, Mitch,” Max spits through gritted teeth. “He fucking betrayed you,” He tries to tug his hand out of Mitch’s grip. “I’ll kill him-”   
  
“Maxy, please,”  Mitch whispers, scrambling to pull his brother away once more.   
  
“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill that little traitor on the spot, Mitchy,” Max spits, eyes dark.   
  
Mitch sighs and glances down at the floor. “Because I love him,”   
  
“He’s still a prick who signed a contract with our grandfather to marry you...you’re not speaking to him, Mitch,”   
  
“I don’t want to talk to him,” Mitch says, worrying his lip. “I just-”   
  
“Want me to get rid of him?” Max cuts in, watching his big brother carefully.   
  
“Just don’t hurt him will you?” Mitch says, brown eyes burning into blue.   
  
Max sighs. “I won’t hurt him. Can’t promise that your dad won’t though,” He’s cut off as there’s another hurried knock at the door, Alex pleading with Mitch to open the door.   
  
Mitch bites down on his lip, looking at the door, his finger still twisting his wedding ring around awkwardly. “Please don’t hurt him, Maxy,”   
  
“Okay,” Max says, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He moves closer to the door but Mitch grabs his wrist once more.   
  
“I need your word, Max,” He says, eyes locking on his brother.   
  
“You have it,” Max replies.   


* * *

  
  
Max waits for Mitch to disappear into the room before he opens the door. Alex’s face immediately drops when he realises that it’s Max standing in the doorway and not his husband. He is still dressed in his crisp black suit, his blue eyes burning into the Bratva prince as he quickly closes the door.   
  
“I see how it is,” Alex says, biting back a laugh. “He sends you out to deal with me,”   
  
Max fights to keep calm. “I’m not dealing with you at all. If I was dealing with you, you’d have three caps in your ass now,”   
  
Alex doesn’t flinch at the prince’s words. “I’m not frightened of you, Maximilian. You can’t hurt me,”   
  
“You think you’re safe because of what my father has promised you? You underestimate me, Alexander,” Max spits under his breath. He wonders if Mitch is listening against the door.   
  
Alex’s blue eyes harden. “You will let me through to see to my husband, Maximilian. It’s in the code isn’t it? Mitchell and I need to consummate _our_ marriage,”   
  
“You’re not going near him,” Max snarls, moving closer to the Brit.   
  
“He’s my husband, Maximilian,” Alex steps forward, not backing down. “You cannot keep him from me, he belongs to me now,”   
  
“He belongs to nobody, he is a prince of the Bratva,” Max spits, eyes dark with anger.   
  
“He is no longer a prince of the Bratva, Maximilian. You’re now the sole heir of everything,”   
  
“Stop lying!” Max hisses, fighting to keep his voice low. “I’m sick of your lies, Lynn,”   
  
“I’m not lying,” Alex spits back furiously. “Your grandfather did it so that you would inherit the Bratva empire, he wasn’t going to sit back and let a Webber rule everything he ever worked for...now, if you’re finished, I need to see to my _husband_ ,”   
  
“Mitch will get the marriage annulled,” Max says, levelling his gaze.   
  
Alex smirks widely. “No, he won’t. He still loves me, despite everything. He cannot break this marriage, even if he wanted to,”   
  
“Okay, I’m tired of your lies now, Lynn,” Max says calmly, pulling the Beretta out of his inner jacket pocket and flicking the safety catch off, palming the cool metal in his hand. “Leave now,”   
  
“You can’t shoot me, Maximilian. I’m family now,”   
  
“I wouldn’t care if you’re the queen of England, Lynn,” Max says quietly. “I wasn’t joking about you having three caps in your ass by the end of this night,”   
  
“You can’t do that,” Alex whispers.   
  
“Watch me,” Max cuts in, his gaze unwavering as he lifts up his Beretta, the barrel sliding a few inches away from his new brother-in-law’s chest. “Don’t forget, Alexander. I’m a Bratva prince. I will not hesitate to protect my family,”   
  
Max watches the fight fade from Alex’s eyes as he backs away slowly. “You will regret this, Maximilian. I will see my husband,”   
  
Max doesn’t say anything, he just keeps his eyes on the Brit, the gun still held steadily in his hand. Alex finally moves away, eyes narrowed, as he disappears into the shadows. Max waits for a moment, listening to Alex’s footsteps die away before he lowers the gun and slips it back into his pocket, quickly opening the door to his bedroom. He locks the door quickly behind him and slumps against for a moment, thinking about the day he’s been through. He thinks about how happy Mitch looked as he walked down the aisle, how he beamed at Alex as they slid the rings onto each other’s fingers, how he had held Alex’s hand as the brand was burnt into his skin.   
  
“Mitchy?” He says, loosening his bow tie as he steps further into the room, frowning as he notices the en-suite is empty, the light switched off. Pulling away his jacket, he glances over his bed, spotting a small mound underneath the covers. Max finds himself moving towards the bed tentatively.   
  
“Mitch?” He says quietly.   
  
Mitch reluctantly slides the covers away from his head, his hair sticking in different directions, his eyes glassy, barely visible in the dim light. “Is he gone?”   
  
“He’s gone,” Max whispers, slipping under the covers next to his brother - they’re used to this comfort, to this intimacy. They’ve been close since they were young - although usually, it was Mitch that was curled around his baby brother, comforting him, stroking his hair, protecting him from the people who wanted to hurt them. However, tonight, it’s Mitch who needs the comfort. Max curls around his big brother, his long limbs easily dwarfing Mitch’s own.   
  
“You threatened him, didn’t you?” Mitch says quietly.   
  
“Mitch, I only did what was necessary-”   
  
Mitch turns over slightly, his dark eyes boring into Max. “Okay, I might have got out my Beretta,”   
  
“Maxy-”   
  
“He hurt you,” Max says, still angry over the Brit. “Nobody is allowed to hurt you,” He says, gently pressing his fingers through Mitch’s hair. “Are you sure you don’t want me to clean out your brand?”   
  
“It’s okay,” Mitch replies. “I don’t want to move,”   
  
A moment of silence spreads between the two brothers for a moment, Max still curled around Mitch protectively, his fingers carding through his brother’s scalp. “What are we going to do?” Mitch whispers, turning again, his brown eyes meet Max’s.   
  
“We can sort this out, we can get a divorce or something,” Max says softly.   
  
“I don’t want a divorce,” Mitch says quietly. “I know it’s crazy...but I still love him,”   
  
Max doesn’t say anything. He continues stroking Mitch’s hair, the silence curling around them.   
  
“You’re angry,” Mitch points out.   
  
“I’m not angry at something you can’t control, Mitchy,” Max sighs heavily. “I’m angry at him, for lying to you, for pretending that he loved you-”   
  
Max feels Mitch freeze against him. “Max-”   
  
“You saw the contract, Mitchy. I know you were with him for a long time but he did this for a reason, he did this because Grandfather wanted him to,”   
  
Mitch says silent as Max continues to stroke his hair. Max fights the urge to continue his speech but he knows that his big brother is hurting right now - he continues to card his hand through Mitch’s hair, wonders if Alex will return in the middle of the night, if he’s gone to their grandfather. He smiles as he finally feels Mitch begin to relax against his hold, sinking into the pillow. Mitch is exhausted, Max can see the bags under his eyes, can see the thin gold ring encircling Mitch’s finger. He watches as Mitch’s eyes still slip shut and his breathing evens out, finally falling into a dreamless sleep.   


* * *

  
  
Max is awoken what seems like only a few minutes later, only to find that Mitch has vanished from his side. Narrowing his eyes, Max hears two voices talking nearby - he recognises his big brother’s voice almost instantly. He sits in the dark, amongst the sheets of his bed, waiting for the other voice to speak - it’s British. Max feels his heart sink as he finds himself drawing back the covers, noting that Mitch’s side is ice cold, before he quietly makes his way over to the door. He opens the handle slowly, barely making any noise as he hears Alex’s voice down the corridor.   
  
“Mitch, please listen to me-” Alex says softly.   
  
“I can’t believe you. I thought you loved me,” Mitch cuts in, his words still more hurried. “I thought that you wanted to marry me on your own terms, not because my family got involved,”   
  
“I wanted to marry you, Mitch. Please believe me,”   
  
“Then why did you sign a contract with my grandfather? I thought you said there were to be no lies between us,”   
  
“You mean, like Carlos?”   
  
Max hears his brother hesitate for a moment. “Carlos was my intended before Kvyat came along, there was nothing between us that wasn’t supposed to happen, Alexander,”   
  
“You lied to me about him,” Alex’s voice twists slightly.   
  
“It isn’t the same as pretending to someone that you love them though is it?” Mitch says, anger tinging his voice. “You betrayed me,”   
  
“And I’m sorry for that,” Alex says. “But I love you, Mitch, I love you,”   
  
“Then why would you hurt me?” Mitch says softly.   
  
“I’m an idiot,” Alex admits, his voice a little lower. “But I really did want you to be my husband,”   
  
“Prove it,” Mitch whispers and Max overhears a low gasp and a thud against wood. His hand twists on the handle, ready to move in as he hears his brother’s pained gasp filter into the hallway as he’s slammed against the door. It’s only the moan of pleasure that escapes from his brother’s lips that stops him pushing his way through the door and pulling Alex away.   
  
“You’re going to wake everyone up,” Mitch whispers, groaning out as Max overhears the sound of wetness pressing over skin.   
  
“I don’t care,” Alex mutters back, his voice is a little muffled, as though his mouth is pressed up against Mitch’s neck. “I need you,”   
  
“Alexander-” Mitch breathes out, another tiny groan falling from his lips. “Please,”   
  
“Do you need me?” Alex whispers, Max hears him press another kiss to his brother’s skin. “Do you need me to fuck you so hard you forget your name?”   
  
“But I have your name too,” Mitch says and Max can hear the smirk in his voice.   
  
“That’s right, Mr Lynn,” Alex purrs, pressing another kiss to Mitch’s body. “I’m sorry for hurting you,”   
  
“Alex,” Mitch whispers, his voice barely audible. “Fuck me,”   
  
“Are you sure?” Alex begins but his words fall away as Max hears the sound of their lips clashing together, a strangled moan rising from Alex’s chest as he presses Mitch further against the door.   
  
“Fuck me, Alexander, now,” Mitch hisses under his breath and Max feels his cheeks burn bright red as he listens to the strained sound of his brother against the door.   
  
He steps away from the door and slips back under the covers of his bed thinking long and hard about the day’s events. He tries not to listen out for Mitch and Alex in the next room, probably consummating their marriage. He tries not to be angry at Mitch - he knows that his brother loves Alex, that they’re married now but it still leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. His hand curves around his Beretta and he sighs heavily, drifting back into sleep, vowing that if Alexander Lynn crosses his family again, the bullets in his gun will become _very_ intimate. 


	20. Torture [Carlos/Max]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max and Carlos give into their feelings, but as everything in the Bratva world, it comes at a terrible cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, Sarah here again! I must must warn you that this story contains a fair bit of torture in the form of whipping and denailing, therefore, if either of these things make you uncomfortable, I suggest that you skip this one.   
> Enjoy! :)

Max knows it’s wrong, he knows that he shouldn’t do it - but Carlos is pressed against his shoulder, his soft hair brushing against Max’s suit jacket. He’s drunk, his speech is slightly slurred, there’s still a bottle of beer held loosely in one of his hands. Dany is still downstairs, busy with his captains running the Bratva. Carlos’s wedding ring glitters in the dim light as he pulls him towards his room, the Spaniard stumbling over his own feet as he giggles against Max’s shoulder.    
  
“Maxy-” Carlos slurs out, his shoulder falling against Max’s as he smiles at the young Bratva prince. “Maxy, where are we going?” He looks debauched; his eyes are glassy, his shirt slightly open showing off his pale golden chest, showing off the marriage brand seared into his shirt. Max bites his lip and tries to ignore the brand, ignore the ring on Carlos’s finger. He knows he shouldn’t, but he hasn’t stopped thinking about the kiss they had shared together on the night of Carlos’s stag party. He remembers how good Carlos’s lips felt against his own, how the warmth curled up inside him, how perfect Carlos had fitted against him.    
  
Max breathes a sigh of relief as he slowly opens his bedroom door, his arms still wrapped around Carlos’s waist. The Spaniard feels good against him, his head still brushing against Max’s shoulder. Max clearly lays Carlos down on the bed, looking down at the man he’s in love with, the man who is married at the head of the Bratva. Carlos looks up at Max for a moment, the smile still wide on his face, his eyes unfocused. Max carefully climbs onto the bed, his hands shaking slightly as he unbuttons Carlos’s white shirt, eyes roving over the pale golden skin that is revealed. Carlos looks up at him, giggling as Max leans in and presses his lips against Carlos’s neck. The taste of salt dances over his tongue as he mouths over Carlos’s skin, smirking as the moan rolls through the thick Italian air.    
  
“Carlos-” Max hisses against his skin as his hands move to map over the tanned skin, over the light muscles of Carlos’s chest. Carlos moans against his mouth as he kisses Max back with some ferocity, his hands moving to twist and tug into Max’s hair. Max pulls Carlos into his arms as he quickly pulls the shirt away from Carlos’s warm skin, marvelling at the beautiful man before him. His hand briefly ghosts over the brand, the brand that marks him as a married man, as he moves in for another kiss, capturing Carlos’s lips once more. His other hand moves to rest at Carlos’s hip for a moment before he moves down to cup at Carlos’s swollen cock, pressing against the thin material of his designer trousers. Carlos gasps against Max’s mouth, his fingers tightening in Max’s hair as Max moves his mouth down to pepper kisses over Carlos’s neck, slick with sweat. Carlos throws his head back, his lips slightly parted as Max’s hand knead at his cock through his trousers, as Max’s mouth closes down on his collarbone, sucking a mark into the tanned skin there.    
  
“Oh god, Dany-” Carlos gasps out as Max bites down on the skin hard, knowing that it’s wrong to mark another man, a man who doesn’t belong to him, a man he cannot resist.    
  
“Maximilian?” Another voice cuts through their gasps and moans and Max finds himself glancing from Carlos’s beautiful face twisted with pleasure to the angry red one of his father. “Maximilian, what’s going on?”   
  


* * *

  
  
“Father, I can explain,” Max says, trying to smooth out the creases in his starched white shirt. “I can explain everything-”   
  
“You were in bed with Dany’s husband, Maximilian. You were in bed with the fucking head of the Bratva’s partner-” His father is livid, his face is bright red and there’s spittle flying from his lips as he glances at the giggling Carlos, at the bright red mark on his collarbone. “What were you thinking?”   
  
“Dad, please-” Max whispers, fear filling his eyes. “Please, I just -”   
  
“Have you any idea what you’ve done?” Sebastian asks, his tone calm and controlled.    
  
“I wasn’t thinking straight, I just, my feelings got in the way-” Max counters but before he can finish, Sebastian raises his hand for him to stop talking.    
  
“I cannot protect you from this,” He says, shaking his head. “We must uphold the law of the Bratva, Maximilian. You have touched the head of the Bratva’s partner without his permission and marked his skin,”   
  
“Dad, please-”   
  
“I’m sorry, son,” Sebastian says, shaking his head.    
  


* * *

  
  
Max is forced to stand before Dany, his fathers and his grandfather, all of whom are wearing stoic expressions on their faces. Carlos is standing next to his husband, looking down at his feet. The mark that Max left on his collarbone is still stark against his tanned skin. Dany grits his teeth, eyeing the young seventeen year old carefully.    
  
“Does marriage mean anything to you, Maximilian?” Dany asks crisply, his eyes dark with anger. “Does  _ this _ mean anything to you?” He spits, grabbing hold of Carlos’s hand and thrusting it in front of Max’s face, the ring glitters in the dim lighting of the room.    
  
“Daniil, I-” Max begins.    
  
“It wasn’t a question for you to answer, Maximilian,” Dany cuts in, pulling Carlos’s hand away from Max and holding onto it tightly. Max watches Carlos wince slightly, feeling angry at the expression on the Spaniard’s face. “You stand before us today, Maximilian, accused of breaking the code of the Bratva. You have touched my husband and intended to dirty him-”   
  
“He doesn’t love you, Dany-” Max snaps, only for the words to die on his tongue as Dany surges forward, eyes twisting in madness, the force of his hand hitting Max’s cheek echoes through the room. Max spots his father shuffle slightly, clearly uncomfortable, only for his papa to squeeze his hand tightly. Max feels his mouth drop open, holding his cheek carefully as he glances at Dany.    
  
“I don’t recall asking you to speak, Maximilian,” Dany spits, smile curving over his lips.    
  
“I don’t regret it,” Max snarls back, his eyes dark. “I’d do it again,”   
  
“Wrong answer,” Dany smirks, his fist moving to grab hold of Max’s shirt, pulling him close. Max gets a hint of Dany’s sharp cologne, of the danger lurking in the dark green eyes. “You know I could kill you, Bratva prince or not,”   
  
“Fuck you, Daniil,” Max spits, barely loud enough to hear.    
  
Dany smirks, pulling Max closer, his breath dancing over Max’s cheek. “Actually, it’s you who is to be fucked up, Maximilian. I must teach you the manners that my brother and Daniel failed to instill in you, I will make sure that you pay for touching _my_ husband,”    
  
“Daniil,” Christian’s voice filters through the silence in the room. “We must begin,”   
  
Dany nods, releasing Max’s shirt and glancing at his grandfather. “The punishment will be twenty five lashings and I wish for them to be delivered by Daniel,”   
  
The Australian man looks surprised at Dany’s words, still holding his husband’s hand. “Why me?”   
  
Dany’s face breaks into a smile. “Because I want to watch the show, and so does Carlos,” He says, pulling his husband closer. “You will deliver the punishment, Daniel. Will that be a problem?”   
  
“Daniil, it’s my son, you know I cannot-” Daniel argues, his dark eyes - so much like Max’s - glinting in the light.    
  
“Sorry, I was mistaken in making you believe that you had a choice in the matter, Daniel,” Dany says, eyes gleaming.    
  
“He’s my son, Daniil,”   
  
“And you are Bratva. You must do what is asked of you, you must obey everything that is asked of you,” Dany cuts in, his voice monotone.    
  
“We must uphold the Bratva law, Daniel,” Sebastian says, squeezing his husband’s hand.    
  
“That’s bullshit, Seb, that’s our son we’re punishing-” Daniel says, shaking his head in disbelief.    
  
“He broke the code, Daniel,” Sebastian says coldly. “We must uphold that,”    
  
“I can’t believe you,” Daniel whispers, his brown eyes full of hurt as they level a gaze at his husband. “I can’t believe this,” He pulls his hand away from his husband’s. “What if I refuse?”   
  
“You break the code, Daniel,” Dany says, a small smile spreading over his face as he presses the whip into the Australian’s hands. Daniel’s brown eyes narrow as his fingers curl around the leather, his teeth bared as he surveys the head of the Bratva.    
  
“I will never forgive you for this,” He whispers.    
  
Dany ignores his words as he turns to address the room. “Maximilian will be given twenty five lashings by Daniel in the presence of us all. He has broken the code of the Bratva in touching my husband, _my_ property,” He declares before he stalks over to his chair, sinking into it. He pulls Carlos into his lap, his hand twisting around Carlos’s stomach, his lips brushing against Carlos’s hair, smirking as he notices Max’s glower on the pair. Two of the bodyguards have grabbed hold of the Bratva prince and strip his shirt away from his milky white skin, leaving him exposed in the middle of the room.   
  
“Dany, I don’t think I should be here-” Carlos says quietly.    
  
“Nonsense, you’re staying to watch the show, darling,” Dany purrs, his lips ghosting over Carlos’s neck. “You may proceed, Daniel, when you’re ready,”   
  
Daniel closes his eyes as he readies the whip. “I’m sorry,” He mouths at his son, as he’s lowered to the floor, his pale skin glowing in the light as he’s pushed down to his knees, his head is bowed.    
  


* * *

  
  
Crack! Daniel feels the tears prick up in the corners of his eyes as the whip hits Max’s back, the skin immediately reddening under the contact of the hard leather. He worries his lip as Max fights the urge not to scream out as the pain spreads across his face. Daniel glances up at Dany, still in his chair, pressing kisses to his husband’s hair.    
  
“I didn’t ask you to stop, Daniel,” Dany says quietly, a small smile ghosting over his lips.    
  
Daniel prepares the whip once more and lashes Max again - this time the skin reddens more, Max’s muscles tighten up in pain, his eyes close for a moment as Daniel fights not to drop the whip, his hands shaking in anger. The next lash lands on Max’s back, the skin reddening a little more, the skin still unbroken. Daniel has to remind himself to breath, to take in gulps of air, his hands shaking over the whip as he looks down at his little boy, at the one he’s powerless to protect.   
  
Tears fall down his cheeks as the next lash lands on his back, the skin puckering under the force of the blow. Max still makes no noise, his eyes are locked on Dany. Daniel chances a glance at his husband but Sebastian has not moved, nor shown any emotion. He stands at the side, his face emotionless. Christian stands at his side, unmoving, his eyes locked on Max still lying on the floor. Daniel sobs as he readies the whip again, preparing for another lash. The yell breaks past his lips as the whip makes contact with his son’s back - the skin finally breaking slightly under the pressure, the bright red blood blossoming over his pale skin.    
  
“Daniel, I don’t think that you’re hitting him quite hard enough,” Dany’s eyes are like liquid emerald. “Do you want to start again-”   
  
“You’re asking me to hit my son twenty five times, Daniil,” Daniel says through gritted teeth.    
  
“So you want to start again?” Dany says, sweetly, still holding onto Carlos’s hard enough to bruise. “It’s your choice,”   
  
Daniel finds himself shaking his head, tears still falling down his cheeks as his fingers tighten around the whip, whitening from the force as he flings the whip back and hits Max with more force, gasping out as he hears his son scream out, unable to keep the shout of pain from pressing from his lips. Max’s scream tears through the room and Dany smiles wider, his hand curving around Carlos’s waist.    
  


* * *

  
  
Daniel feels the tears fall from his cheeks as he brings the whip down again and again on his son’s back, the pristine pale skin ripped apart by the leather, the angry stripes standing out against Max’s back, the blood dripping down over his skin. Max remains stoic, tears dripping down his face from the pain but he no longer screams out in pain, his lip is bleeding from the pressure of his teeth biting down on it to stop himself from crying out. Daniel finds himself calling out the number of lashing between sobs, his hands still shaking from holding onto the whip.    
  
Fourteen. He glances up at his husband. Sebastian has barely moved, he stands still as though he is a soldier, his eyes fixed on the scene before him, his face betraying no shred of emotion.    
  
Seventeen. He watches Christian, watches the indifference in the head of the families face - his arms are folded, his eyes are hollow.    
  
Nineteen. He finds his eyes falling on Carlos, on how terrified and upset the young Galega heir looks in Dany’s lap. He looks tiny, tears falling down his cheeks as he watches Max carefully, his teeth caught between his lip.    
  
Twenty-one. He takes a breath, a sob bubbles up from his lips as he looks down at Max’s back, at the markings ribboning over the pale skin, red mixing in with white.    
  
Twenty-three. Daniel feels the sweat covering the back of his head, his hands starting to ache. He wants nothing more than to drop the whip but he knows he must finish the punishment. His eyes meet green ones and Dany’s smile curves over his lips once more, his hand on Carlos before his gaze flickers down to Max, taking in the sight of him hungrily.    
  
Twenty five. Daniel sighs in relief as the whip hits Max’s back once more, blood splattering across the floor as he drops the whip, resisting the urge to be sick. He sobs, looking down at his son, looking down at what he’s done. However, Max seems to spring to life at the sound of the leather hitting the floor. He lifts his head to lock eyes with Dany. “I’ll kill you one day, Daniil,” He says quietly. “I will kill you and take Carlos from you,”   
  
Dany surveys the young prince carefully. “It appears the lashings did not work, did they Maximilian?”   
  
“You’re fucking stupid if you think a few lashes is going to stop me, Daniil,” Max spits.    
  
Dany smirks. “I am going to love smacking that fight right out of you. You truly are a Ricciardo, Maximilian,”   
  
“The punishment is over,” Sebastian cuts in.    
  
“I don’t think so, brother,” Dany says, pulling Carlos from his lap and standing up. He towers over Max, looking down at him with hatred in his dark green eyes. “Maximilian clearly has not learnt from his lashings, I will administer the second part of the conditioning,”   
  
“Daniil-” Christian begins, confusion spreading over his face. “I don’t think-”   
  
“It’s completely necessary. We must make an example of young Maximilian here. Otherwise, he’s going to continue thinking that it’s okay to shag my husband isn’t he?” Dany says crisply as he walks over to the cabinet and pulls out the rusted pliers, twisting them between his fingers.    
  
Daniel freezes at the sight of the pliers in Dany’s hands, his face paling as the head of the Bratva forces his son to his feet, the blood smearing over his fingers as he easily wrestles the teenager down to his knees, slamming his hand down on the table. Max struggles against Dany but Dany snarls, slamming Max against the table.    
  
“Don’t fight me, Maximilian. It’s time for your  _manikyur_ ,” He hisses, smirking.    
  
“What the fuck-” Daniel begins as Dany grasps Max’s thumb nail in between the pliers and slowly begins to pull. Max screams out at the sensation, the force of the keratin ripping away from his nail beds, coupled with the blood still streaming down his back is too much for the teenager. Daniel’s face reddens in anger as he moves to intervene, only to find Sebastian’s arm curling around his bicep.    
  
“We cannot interfere,”    
  
“This is bullshit, Sebastian. Daniil is torturing him for no reason now,” Daniel screams, his eyes locked on Dany who locks eyes with him, the pliers digging deeper under the skin. Max fights against the pliers, tears falling down his cheeks as he screams, as Dany grits his teeth and forces Max’s hand against the table as he tears off the first nail with a scrape, holding the bloody piece of keratin in between the pliers triumphantly.    
  
“Just nine more to go, Maximilian,” He says smoothly.    
  
“I’ll fucking kill you-” Daniel hisses, flying forward, his teeth bared. “I will fucking kill you-”   
  
“Daniel!” Sebastian screams, his arms pulling Daniel away from his little brother. “Maximilian must face his punishment if he is to be considered a man of the Bratva,”   
  
“This is fucking sick! He’s a kid!” Daniel shouts out, spittle flying from his lips.    
  
“Daniel, that’s enough,” Sebastian spits, hauling his husband away. “You’re embarrassing me,”   
  
“Embarrassing you? That’s _our_ son, Sebastian-”   
  
“Sebastian,” Christian cuts in, sharply. “Take Daniel out so the punishment can be completed,” He commands, his expression unfeeling as Sebastian tugs his husband out of the room, Daniel’s shouts and protests echoing down the hallway. Dany drops the nail down onto the table before he readies the pliers once more. He doesn’t take his time with the second nail - the pliers slowly ghosting under the skin, he smiles as he hears Max’s scream pierce through the air, the nail slowly pulling away from the skin. Max pounds his other hand against the table, screams out in Russian, tears fall down his cheeks as the nail is slowly pried away from the bed of his fingers. Max swears in Russian as the nail finally is ripped from his finger and dropped next to the other bloodied one.    
  
“Ready to give in yet, Maximilian?” Dany hisses, smirking at the eighteen year old crying against the table.    
  
“Where are you going, Carlos?” Christian’s voice cuts through the sobs. Dany looks up from the sight of Max to see his husband, tears falling down his cheeks, his hand on the doorknob, body shaking with sobs.    
  
“I-” Carlos begins, shaking his head. “I cannot sit by and watch you do this,”   
  
“You’re not going anywhere, darling,” Dany hisses. “Come over here now,” He commands, but Carlos remains where he is, wide brown eyes watching his husband carefully.    
  
“Carlos, I won’t ask again,” Dany says playfully.    
  
Carlos slowly walks over to where his husband is kneeling, still pressing Max against the table. Dany says nothing else, he merely holds out the pliers, wordlessly. Carlos accepts them with shaking hands, his cheeks glittering with tears. He reluctantly moves to hold one of Max’s fingers, his wedding ring shines brightly in the light as he carefully pushes the pliers under Max’s fingernail. Max sobs out once more, fighting against Dany and Carlos hesitates for a moment.    
  
“Carlos, remember,” Dany says dangerously. Carlos sobs out, tears flowing down his cheek as he pulls the nail away. Max screams out, his other hand moving to scrape against the table as the nail slowly comes away from the bed. It seems to take a lifetime, Carlos’s hands shake against the pliers as the nail moves inch by inch. A curdling scream tears through the air as the nail finally succumbs to the pliers, ripping away from Max’s skin.    
  
“No more, no more-” The teenager whispers, tears falling down his cheeks. “Please-”   
  
Dany surveys the Bratva prince carefully. “That’s enough,” He announces as Carlos drops the pliers, the bloody nail still attached within. “Ensure he goes to his rooms,” He instructs Christian briefly before his hand winds around Carlos possessively, pulling the Spaniard out of the room. Max watches him go, watches the haunted, tear-filled eyes disappear as the door closes and feels a sob bubble up inside him as he surveys the three bloodied nails sitting on the tabletop.    
  


* * *

  
  
Max sits on his bed, tears still falling from his cheeks as he slowly winds the bandages around his fingers, his eyes locked on the space where his nail used to be, the red stark against his skin. He feels the anger curl up inside him as he thinks about Dany’s sadistic smile curling over his face, thinks about Carlos’s tears ghosting down his cheeks, thinks about how red and angry his father’s face was. There’s a small knock on his door, it’s barely audible. He raises an eyebrow and slowly rises from his bed to get to the door. He opens it slowly, eyes widening in surprise as Carlos comes into view.    
  
“You shouldn’t be here,” Max whispers, pulling Carlos into the room quickly and shutting the door. “You should be with Dany-” He begins but as Carlos steps into the light, Max spots the bruising on his cheek and the blood in the corner of his lip. “What happened?” He says, slowly moving his hand to ghost over Carlos’s lip. Carlos flinches away.   
  
“Nothing,” Carlos says, a little too quickly. “He was angry,”   
  
Max narrows his eyes. “He hurt you?”   
  
“He said I needed to be punished for allowing you to touch me in that way,” Carlos says, looking down at his feet.    
  
“I’ll kill him,” Max spits, eyes hardened as he moves towards the door, only for a tanned hand to curl around his wrist.   
  
“Don’t,” Carlos whispers, his thumb pressing over Max’s wrist. “Don’t do that,” His hands find the bandages circling Max’s fingers. “I’m sorry for this,”   
  
“Don’t you ever be sorry,” Max whispers, his hand curving over Carlos’s. Their hands twist together, Carlos’s fingers stroking over the bandages slowly.   
  
“You shouldn’t be here,” Max says quietly, feeling the warmth spread over his fingers, the pain dulled for a moment as he glances into Carlos’s warm brown eyes.    
  
“I had to see if you’re okay,” Carlos says, worrying his lip.    
  
“It’s you I worry about,” Max admits. “I’m fine, don’t you worry about me,” He says carefully, his bandaged hand moving to gently cup Carlos’s face, eyes darkening at the sight of the bruise on the tanned skin.    
  
“Max-” Carlos whispers, as the teenager’s fingers ghost over his cheek carefully. Max leans in and presses their lips together. It’s a soft and chaste kiss, their lips barely move over each other, Max’s hand sliding from his cheek to fist into his soft dark curls. Carlos moans against Max’s lips as they fall against each other before they gently pull apart, brown eyes staring into blue. Max slowly ghosts his hand over where Carlos’s brand is, closing his eyes and leaning into the Spaniard. They lose themselves in that moment, forgetting that they belong to the Bratva, that their love is forbidden, that they can never be together - but in that moment, it’s safe to pretend. 


	21. See you again [Mitch & Max]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is to make up for the previous chapter cause Sarah fucked with all our hearts tbh. This fic, also happens to be for her so enjoy love, you've earned it ;) Should also point out that this is pure fluff and nothing bad happens! (for once)

Mitch can’t really remember the last time he saw his baby brother. If his memory recalls him correctly it was at the wedding – between himself and Alex – when he was just maturing out of his teenage years. He hates it really, being tied down to the firm and having to stay by Alex’s side no matter what, not even given the opportunity to see his family – sometimes it’s worth it, other times it’s not. However this time, he’s managed to persuade his husband to let him fly out to Moscow, to the home of the Bratva.

He glances down at the ticket in his hand, the one think that’s making all this _real_ , and a happy smile spreads onto his lips. His fingers absently play with the bracelet around his wrist the entire flight over, running across the metal chain and the colourful beads;  the present Max had bought him when he turned 18, over 5 years ago. Mitch smiles and glances out of the window – he can’t wait to see his little brother.

* * *

 

Daniel is waiting at the airport, just like he promised, and Mitch instantly throws his arms around his step fathers neck, hugging him tightly.   
  
“I missed you Mitchell”   
  
Daniel says, pressing a kiss to his forehead and Mitch has to reluctantly let him go as he follows the Australian towards his car.   
  
“How is everyone?”  
  
Mitch replies, placing his suitcase in the back of the car – a blood red Ferrari, _of course –_ and slips into the passenger seat.   
  
“Your dad won’t take a break from work as usual, Max and Dany won’t stop arguing and I’m slowly turning grey so, we’re good”  
  
Mitch laughs and shakes his head, glancing over to Daniel from the corner of his eye.  He can see the few grey hairs standing out against Daniel’s dark locks, the beginnings of wrinkles in the corner of his eyes. Mitch places his hand against Daniel’s, the one that’s resting on top of the gear stick, and squeezes it slightly.   
  
“I’ve missed you Dan, a lot”  
  
Daniel only smiles softly in response, pulling out of the airport car park and heads towards  the Manor, the house Mitch hasn’t visited for years.

* * *

 

It isn’t any different, though that doesn’t really come as a surprise – he knows how much his grandfather likes to keep the traditional look. Daniel parks up outside, turning off the engine and stepping outside to grab Mitch’s suitcase. Mitch doesn’t move however, his anxiety creeping up again. Daniel opens up the door before Mitch can panic any further, smiling softly as he leans against the door.   
  
“Come on, don’t you think we’ve been waiting long enough?”  
  
Mitch nods in response and pulls himself out of the seat, biting his lip when he glances towards the wooden front door - It’s still the same, the handle is still a little scratched, the chipped piece of wood in the bottom corner is still there.  He smiles, following Daniel into the home, the familiar feeling of _home_ washing over him.  
  
“Go on, he’s not going to bite”  
  
Mitch turns around and smacks his hand against his father’s wrist. Their reunion had been filled with a lot more tears than Mitch had expected – Sebastian had pulled him into a tight hug and cried against his shoulder for at least 20 minutes, before Daniel had to force him away. Mitch takes in a deep breath, his hand curling over the door handle of the door. He bites his lip, glancing over his shoulder one last time at his parents before throwing all his worries away, and steps inside.

* * *

 

There’s a long moment of silence, Max stares up from the bed, his eyes wide and mouth open in shock and Mitch can only smile back in response, at a loss of words as he looks over his baby brother. He hasn’t changed much, his eyes are still as bright as Sebastian’s, his nose still has the same curve as Daniel’s, the freckles still dance across his cheeks. Max places the book down on the side, slowly pulling himself up from the bed to head towards Mitch. He doesn’t know what to do, so Mitch stays in place and watches his brother – now even taller – as he stops in front of him. Max raises his hands, which Mitch notes are shaking slightly, and places them against his cheeks. Mitch lets out a soft laugh and smiles at his little brother.   
  
“Hey Maxy”   
  
Mitch whispers, fresh tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Max bites his lip, the smile evident on his face and throws his arms around Mitch’s neck to pull him close against his body. Mitch wraps his own arms around his brother, and rests his head against his chest, fingers grasping at the back of his jacket, as if he’s afraid to lose him again.   
  
“I’ve missed you, so much”   
  
Max whispers through his soft cries, resting his head against Mitch’s shoulder.   
  
“I’ve missed you too Maxy”

* * *

 

Neither of them spoke after that, intent with just feeling each other in their arms, the closeness and comfort enough.  Mitch glances down at his brother, now curled up on his bed with his head against Mitch’s chest, eyes closed as he sleeps softly through the evening. He runs his hand through Max’s hair, the locks just as soft as he remembers beneath his fingertips. He can’t wait until the morning, when he can catch up with his brother, find out everything he had missed and just spend time with his parents and brother.

Max stirs slightly in his sleep, shifting closer against Mitch, his hair tickling against Mitch’s skin. He slowly reaches for Max’s hand, curling their fingers together, a smile spreading on his face when he feels Max squeeze back slightly. Mitch rests his head against the feather pillow, sleep slowly pulling him under, but he forces himself to stay awake just a little longer. He looks over Max’s sleeping face; he still sleeps with his mouth open slightly, his thick eyelashes stand out against his pale skin. Mitch places a kiss against his brothers forehead, brushes his thumb against his cheek before he closes his eyes. He’s about to drift off into a sleep, but just before he’s pulled under, he feels Max’s hair brush against his neck, his body shift closer, and his soft voice before he drifts off into a sleep, a smile on his face.  
  
“ _I love you Mitchy”_


	22. Protection [Webber Family]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitch and Max are sent to Mark's house after an attempt on their lives. However, there's something that Mark forget to mention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, Sarah here! Sorry about the length of this fic, it's a nice long brothers fic and I think the person who asked for it knows it's for her ;). This story introduces Brendon Hartley into the story, he's not part of the mob. He's a doctor in the local hospital. He and Mark have been dating for a few years and have been engaged for about six months. Mitch and Max are teenagers in this story.

The telephone is picked up carefully. “Hello?” The Australian accent curls through the air.    
  
“Mark,” A familiar German accent filters through the receiver.   
  
“Sebastian,” The Australian says crisply. “To what do I owe this honour?”   
  
There’s a loud sigh on the other end of the phone. “I need your help,” Sebastian admits.   
  
“You need my help?” Mark asks, raising an eyebrow in surprise. “Why would you need-”   
  
“Mitch and Max are in trouble. Fernando sent men to our house last night, if Daniel hadn’t heard them, they’d have been dead-”   
  
“What,” Mark snarls into the receiver. “Where were your safety measures Sebastian? You know better than that-”   
  
“I know okay? You don’t need to lecture me-”   
  
“Clearly, I fucking do. You left our son without any sort of security measures, Sebastian-”   
  
“I fucking know, Mark!” Sebastian hisses. “Look, will you help me or not?”   
  
“What do you need?” Mark says finally, hating how quickly he gives into Sebastian.    
  
“Can the boys stay with you for a while? Until the dust clears-” Sebastian cuts in. Mark can picture him stood in the kitchen, the kitchen he used to share with the Bratva prince, his phone cradled in between his fingers, his teeth caught on his lip as they always are when he’s nervous.    
  
“And what about you? What if Fernando decides to kill you?”   
  
Sebastian doesn’t speak for a moment. “He won’t kill me,”   
  
“Seb, he  _ could _ if he wanted to-”   
  
“He wants the boys, Mark.  _ Please _ . Please let them stay,”   
  
Mark feels blue eyes close on him as he sags against the kitchen table. “Fine.” He says finally, brushing a hand through his hair. “Send them,”   
  
“Thank you,” Sebastian says, his voice slightly choked. “Thank you so much,”   
  
Mark doesn’t say anything. He just hangs up and sighs heavily, placing the phone back on the table. “We’ve got visitors in a few days,” He says to the blonde man sitting opposite him, who sips on the coffee before him.    
  
“Guess we better make up Mitch’s room then, huh?” The blonde says with a smile.    
  
Mark nods, thinking of his sons back at his ex-husband’s apartment in Russia and smiling back at the blonde opposite. “And Max needs a room too,”  
  


* * *

  
  
Mark pulls his leather jacket closer around himself as he glances up at the arrivals board before him, checking the time on his expensive Rolex that Mitch had gotten him for his fourtieth birthday. The board tells him that the flight from Dubai landed twenty minutes ago, he’s starting to get a little worried as the people slowly filter out of the gate tugging their suitcases behind them. However, just as he’s about to check his phone, he spots a familiar figure dressed in a grey hoodie. He grins widely as his son throws himself at him, feeling the calm wash over his chest at his son wrapped up in his arms. Mitch looks the same as always, his skin is a little paler than usual and he has bags under his eyes, no doubt from the thirteen hour flight.    
  
“I missed you, Dad,” He says, quietly, sighing happily against Mark’s shoulder as his father’s arms tighten around his shoulders. “I missed you so much,”   
  
He finally lets go of Mark and steps away, only for Mark to finally notice the other boy by his side. He barely recognises Max from a year ago - gone is the short fourteen year old with the longish hair and baggy clothes - the fifteen year old Max has finally hit his growth spurt, already towering several inches over his big brother. His hair is shorter, similar to Mitch’s but Mark can spot the messiness inherited from Daniel. The hoodie - Mark recognises as one of Mitch’s - slightly tight around his shoulders.    
  
“Max?” Mark says, moving to gently hug the tall teenager. He’s already past Mark’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you,”   
  
“Thank you for having me, Mark,” Max says quietly.    
  
“No problem, sport,” Mark says, grinning as he leads the boys back to his Porsche. Max eyes the car with interest. The first thing Mark notices that is that Mitch doesn’t slide into the front seat as he usually does, choosing to slip in the back with his little brother. Mark smiles at the pair of teenagers as he fixes his mirrors, the Porsche quietly roaring to life and sliding out of the car park. He smiles as he notices Mitch struggling to stay awake, Max’s head is slumped against his shoulder and the young Bratva prince is dozing away on his big brother. Mitch’s eyes keep sliding closed as the Porsche glides onto the motorway.    
  
When Mark looks back on his son a moment later, Mitch’s eyes are closed and his head is turned into Max, the two brothers curled together, dozing on the backseat. He doesn’t miss Mitch’s hand curled around Max’s hand protectively, the two brothers pressed up against each other, looking innocent in sleep. They both look remarkable younger and Mark finds himself really glancing carefully at the boys in his mirrors, at how much Sebastian is reflected in them both. He looks at Max’s nose, at Mitch’s lips and the smile curls over his lips as the Porsche continues along the motorway, the two Bratva princes sleep on unaware.    
  


* * *

  
  
“We’re home, boys,” Mark says softly as he pulls into the driveway of the house. Mitch stirs at his voice, dark eyes blinking open blearily.    
  
“Dad?” He says, voice slightly rough. Max is still dozing against his shoulder.    
  
“We’re home, son,” Mark says, killing the engine and gripping the keys in his hand. “You wanna get Max out and I’ll bring your cases in?” He suggests, smiling as Mitch slowly shakes Max away. Max groans - so much like Sebastian, Mark thinks - and tries to bury himself against Mitch’s shoulder but the Kiwi shakes him again softly.    
  
“Maxy, we’re home,” He whispers, brushing back the hair from his little brother’s face.    
  
Max blinks open blue eyes which fix on his brother, confusion still on his face. “What’s going on?”   
  
“We’re at my dad’s place,” Mitch whispers, stroking his brother’s cheek. “C’mon, we’ll go straight to bed,”    
  
Max whines a little more and Mark feels the smile gently ghost over his face at how much like Seb Max truly is. Max slowly opens his eyes and blinks away the sleep blearily. “But Mitchy-”   
  
“C’mon, we can go straight to bed,” Mitch says softly, gently pulling his brother out of the car. Mark watches as Mitch’s hand curls around Max’s shoulder, pulling him closer as he supports him to the door, Max’s head lolling against him, his legs barely moving as Mitch leads him to the front door. “Home sweet home,” Mark hears Mitch whisper softly to Max. “Dad, I’ll take him to my room,”   
  
“I made him up the room next to yours-”   
  
“He won’t sleep on his own,” Mitch says, shaking his head. “He’s sharing my bed,”   
  
Mark’s brow furrows in confusion as he places the boy’s suitcases in the hallway but he says nothing else as he watches his son carry his little brother upstairs to his bedroom. He goes and checks the Porsche is locked up before he steps back inside, locking the door behind him and wondering if Brendon is already in bed. He checks in the lounge to find it completely in darkness. Rubbing his eyes, he slowly climbs the stairs to the bedrooms upstairs, checking along the way that all the windows are locked. He finds himself hovering outside Mitch’s bedroom for a moment before he slowly pushes open the door. In the dim moonlight filtering through the blinds, Mark can make out Mitch’s bed - he spots the tufts of black hair that belong to his son, he’s curled around Max who is flat out next to him. He watches the two young teenagers for a moment, the two Bratva princes fast asleep side by side - Mitch’s arms curled over the lump in the covers which is Max in an almost protective fashion. Mark slowly closes the door behind him and makes his way to his own bedroom.    
  
He sheds his clothes, hurriedly shoving the pile into the laundry basket before he slides into the comfort of his own bed, smiling as he curls around a familiar body.    
  
“Mmmm, you’re back late,” Brendon mutters sleepily as Mark’s hands curve around his midsection, his lips dancing over the hair at the nape of the Kiwi’s neck. “Mitch and Max are sharing a bed,”   
  
“And that’s a problem why?” Brendon asks, his voice still thick with sleep.    
  
“Well, Mitch is eighteen now, isn’t he a little old to be sharing a bed with his teenage brother?” Mark asks quietly.    
  
Brendon turns slightly, his blue eyes burning into Mark’s. “Our families aren’t like others, Mark. Mitch is probably protecting him the only way he knows how,”   
  
“I don’t like it,” Mark admits.    
  
“Well, Seb clearly doesn’t share your concerns. Just let them sleep, they’ve had a long flight,” Brendon says softly.    
  
“But-”   
  
“Mark,” Brendon mutters. “Go to sleep, we’ll discuss it in the morning okay?” He says, pressing their lips together for a moment. Mark smiles into the kiss - just a chaste brush of lips - before he moves away, still holding Brendon tightly.    
  
“I suppose you’re right,”   
  
“I’m always right, Webber,” Brendon argues back, resting his face against Mark’s chest.    
  


* * *

  
  
Mark wakes up the next morning to cold sheets, Brendon has already left for his early shift at the hospital. Mark groans, thinking about how he’s going to tell Mitch and Max about his partner - he knows that Max will be okay with it but he’s not sure how Mitch will take the news. He pokes his head through the door to find Max slumbering alone in the bed. He raises an eyebrow before he hears the sound of the shower down the hallway. Mitch was always more like himself, never particularly enjoyed lying in bed, whilst it seemed that Max was more like his father, Sebastian would have stayed in bed all year if he was able to. Mark sighs, shaking his head as he makes his way downstairs to start breakfast.    
  
The eggs are beginning to brown nicely as Mitch enters the kitchen, towelling off his wet hair. “You know me too well, Dad,” He says, grinning as he watches his father spoon the hot oil over the egg.    
  
“Did you sleep well?”   
  
Mitch hums as he folds himself down at the kitchen table, rubbing a hand over the stubble still coating his chin. “It was okay, forgot how much Max kicks sometimes,”   
  
“I didn’t know you two still shared a bed,” Mark says carefully, as he watches the egg bubble in the oil as he grabs the two slices of toast that have popped up from the toaster.    
  
“We sleep better that way sometimes, we protect each other,” Mitch says, shrugging. “I thought I’d give him a tour of the house after breakfast, let him visit the pool,”   
  
Mark bites his lip as he slides the egg from the pan onto a plate and adds the two slices of toast. “How does Max like his eggs?” He asks, placing the plate in front of his son.    
  
“Runny, like mine,” Mitch says, picking up the knife and fork. “Thanks Dad, you make the best eggs,”   
  
“Better than your Papa’s?”   
  
“Papa still burns cornflakes, Dad. Dan makes pretty good eggs though,” Mitch says, cutting into the egg yolk. Mark shakes his head as he turns back to the pan and cracks another egg into the centre.    
  


* * *

  
  
The egg is frying away as Max stumbles into the room, his wet hair standing on end, Mitch’s hoodie folded over his lithe form. “Good morning,” He says, scratching his head as he falls into the seat next to Mitch.    
  
“Good morning, Max. Mitch told me you like eggs,” Mark says, sliding the egg onto a plate next to the warm toast. He carefully places the plate in front of Max which surveys him with wide eyes.    
  
“You made me breakfast?” He says, mouth open in surprise.    
  
“Of course. Heard that your dad was good at making eggs?” Mark teases lightly.    
  
“Dad’s good at cooking, Papa on the other hand-” Max says, looking down at the plate. “Is this really for me?”   
  
Mark nods. “Dig in,” He says, before he turns back to make his own breakfast. As the eggs fry, he notices Mitch take the toast from Max’s plate and slice it into soldiers wordlessly. Mark watches the brothers carefully as Max accepts the soldiers from his brother and dips one into his egg. He smiles as he spoons the oil over his own eggs, watching them cook.    
  


* * *

  
  
“So this is one of the lounges, my dad likes to bring the fancy mafia people in here. He once shot Maurizio Arrivabene in here,” Mitch says as Max takes in the room before him - he’s not how he imagined, there’s an old log fireplace and a large flatscreen television mounted on the wall, the couches look expensive. There’s two dogs lying on the floor, snoozing lazily in the sunshine filtering through the blinds.    
  
“There’s Simba and Shadow,” Mitch says, smiling at the dogs who haven’t noticed their presence. “They’re not very good guard dogs...but they don’t need to be. Dad has the best security here,” Mitch says as he leads Max through the house. It’s enormous but not as elaborate as Max was expecting. He pauses and glances at some of the photographs on the wall - he recognises the young toddler Mitch beaming from what looks like Bondi Beach, as well as a photograph of Mark and their father when he was younger, clutching a newborn Mitch. Max’s eyes widen as he takes in the sight of their father looking very young, smiling widely, Mark’s hand curling around his shoulder. His eyes stop on another photo of Mark standing next to a blonde haired man.    
  
“Who is that?”   
  
Mitch glances at the photo. “Oh, that’s Brendon, he’s my father’s best friend.” He grabs Max’s wrist. “C’mon, I gotta show you the best part of the house,” He says, dragging Max away.    
  
Max is about to protest as Mitch leads him outside, through the perfectly manicured gardens that surround the house only for the words to die on his lips as he surveys the scene before him. The swimming pool is enormous; an enormous false waterfall cascades down into the deep end, beautiful bright flowers clinging to the rock face.    
  
“This is incredible,” Max begins.    
  
“This isn’t half of it,” Mitch says, tugging him towards the rock face, Max feels his mouth drop open as they walk through a hidden opening in the side of the rock. There’s a shallower pool and a jacuzzi built into the floor under the rock face, the lights gently lead through the water. “This is amazing,” Max whispers as he glances over the calm waters.    
  
Mitch smiles widely. “Fancy a swim?”    
  
Max nods once, suddenly wanting the urge to jump into the water, to feel it against his skin.    
  


* * *

  
  
Max screams as Mitch flicks the warm water at him, swimming closer to his brother and grabbing hold of his wrist. The two boys wrestle for a moment, treading water, before Max manages to grab Mitch’s shoulder and push the teenager under the water. Mitch surfaces, his dark hair sticking to his forehead, his dark eyes wide as he brushes back his wet hair with a hand.    
  
Max feels the giggle as Mitch grabs hold of his shoulders, dunking him under the water. He surfaces a moment later, shaking the water from his hair as the two teenagers look at each other and giggle.    
  
“What do you think of Dad’s place?” Mitch asks, still breathless from going under.   
  
“It’s amazing. Do you think Papa will let us build a swimming place at our place?”   
  
Mitch giggles. “Maybe,” He surges forward again to dunk Max back under the water.    
  
“Boys! Lunch!” Mark calls out from inside the house. Max surfaces from the water, rubbing it from his eyes, fluffing up his hair as he follows Mitch over to the side of the pool. Looking back on the waterfall cascading down into the pool, Max finds himself smiling. It’s beautiful here; he truly misses his fathers but it’s nice to spend time with Mitch here. He hears his brother call out and follows him into the house, towelling off his hair as he goes.    
  


* * *

  
  
Mitch drags his little brother over to his father’s gun range after lunch for a few hours. Mark watches the brothers traipse off as he washes the dishes at the sink, smiling at Mitch looking so happy. He’s always happy to have his son around but usually when Mitch comes, he’s a little bored and lonely. Mark watches the pair carefully, feeling the smile tug at his lips - they have such a strong bond, surely nurtured by Sebastian. Mark doesn’t miss Mitch’s protective hand on Max’s wrist as he twists the gun into position, explaining to him softly about the recoil.    
  
“Remember to hold your breath in as you fire,” He hears Mitch command before Max slides the headphones back over his guns and glares at the target in front of him. He lifts the gun up to height and takes a deep breath.    
  
“And breathe,” Mitch says. “Then fire, and exhale. Prepare for the recoil,” Mitch says.    
  
Max breathes in and angles the gun - it barely wavers in between his fingers as he presses down on the trigger lightly. The bullet tears through the paper target and Max exhales deeply, lowering the gun as a grin spreads over his face.    
  
“Did I hit it?”   
  
“You bet you did,” Mitch says, grinning widely. “Obviously, you got a while to go before you’re as good as me,”   
  
Max shakes his head. “I got it straight through the heart,”   
  
Mitch raises an eyebrow and picks up his own gun, loading it with an expert hand. He angles it just right, barely taking a breath as he fires six shots one after the other. Max watches him, his mouth falling open as Mitch lowers the gun and stalks forward, collecting the paper target from the wall and holding it out to his little brother.    
  
“See, little brother? Still got some work to do,”  Mitch says, grinning as he holds up the target, the six bullet holes perfectly over the chest area in an M shape.    
  
Max feels his mouth drop open. Mark feels the urge to laugh at the younger teenager’s response.   
  


* * *

  
  
Mitch and Max eventually tire of the shooting range and retire to the games room to play on Halo for a few hours. Mark can hear the shouts from both boys from upstairs as he carefully stirs the tomato sauce he’s making from scratch. He’s draining the spaghetti in the sink when he feels a pair of warm arms wrap around him, a pair of lips dance over his neck. 

  
“Good evening, darling,” Brendon’s voice purrs against his skin.   
  
“Mmmm,” Mark whispers, smiling as he continues poking at the spaghetti with a fork. “I missed you,”  
  
“Did you have a nice day with the boys?” Brendon asks quietly.   
  
“They’ve been swimming and shooting and I think they’re playing on Halo upstairs,” Mark says as he moves to grab the spaghetti spoon from the side and begins ladeling the pasta onto the plates before him.   
  
“Did you tell them?” Brendon asks, watching Mark carefully.   
  
“Tell them what?” Mark replies as he drops the pasta onto the last plate.  
  
“About _us_ , Mark,” Brendon says quietly.   
  
“Can you pass the parmesan cheese from the fridge please?” Mark interrupts as he grabs the pan of bolognaise and begins placing it on top of the pasta.   
  
“ _Mark_ ,” Brendon says softly. “Don’t change the subject.”  
  
“I haven’t had chance to tell them yet,” Mark says thickly as he takes the packet of parmesan cheese from the blonde. “Brendon-”  
  
“You have to tell them, Mark,” Brendon says, rubbing a hand through his hair. “They have a right to know,”  
  
“I know,” Mark says with an air of finality as he calls up to the boys, summoning them to the dinner table. Brendon gives him a tight look, his lip caught between his teeth as he takes his plate over to the table.   
  
Mitch appears first, Max trailing behind him. “Smells delicious!” He says and Brendon finds himself smiling at the familiar voice as Mitch appears in the dining room, pausing as he takes in the sight of his father’s best friend.  
  
“Brendon, what are you doing here?” Mitch asks and Brendon smiles at Mark’s son, he’s barely changed - he’s got a tiny bit taller but it’s clear that he’s inherited his height from Sebastian, his dark hair so much like Mark’s is mussed from the humidity.   
  
However, thankfully, Brendon is saved from answering the question as Max and Mark enter the room with their own plates of spaghetti. “Hello,” Max says tentatively, as he slides next to Mitch.   
  
“This is Brendon, my dad’s best friend,” Mitch says, pouring half of the packet of parmesan cheese onto his spaghetti. “He hangs around here alot, we didn’t know we were going to be having you over for dinner,” He says, twirling the spaghetti around his fork.   
  
“Guess I was a little lonely,” Brendon says as he eats his own spaghetti.   
  
“So how is school?” Mark asks Mitch across the table, tucking into his bolognaise.  
  
“Dad, c’mon, I know that Papa emails my reports to you all the time,” Mitch says, rolling his eyes as Mark surveys him with a look. “Fine, I got detention the other day for threatening to shoot someone,”  
  
“Mitchell,” Mark says, his voice full of warning.   
  
“It’s fine, Dad,” Mitch says, slurping up the spaghetti. “He was threatening Max,”  
  
“Is that true, Max?” Mark asks, watching the young teenager’s face colour bright red.   
  
“I told him not to get involved,” Max mutters as he cuts up his spaghetti. “I said I’d deal with it but you know what Mitch is like,”  
  
“Hey!” Mitch says, mock-offended. “I’m not that bad,”  
  
“You’re just like your father,” Brendon says, smiling as he takes a drink of water.   
  
“What do you mean?” Mitch says, pouting. “I feel like I’m being ganged up on here,”  
  
“You’re just like him, as stubborn and protective as he can be,” Brendon says, shaking his head. “Wasn’t he Mark?”  
  
Mark smiles, putting down his fork and glancing at Brendon carefully. “I guess so, Seb always said he got the stubbornness from me,” He laughs only to find that Mitch doesn’t laugh back, his dark eyes - so much like his own - are fixed on Mark’s finger, on the thin silver band wrapped around it.   
  
“Dad, what’s that-” Mitch begins before he glances to Brendon and finds a similar silver band wrapped around his finger. Mark watches as the pieces finally slot into place and Mitch’s fork clatters to his plate as his skin pales. “You, you-” He begins, pushing his chair up, making it scrape across the floor.   
  
“Mitch, please let me explain-” Mark begins, eyes turned on his son. Max watches on, his lip caught between his teeth.   
  
“What’s there to explain?” Mitch hisses dangerously, his eyes dark. “You promised, you always said it would just be us,”  
  
“Mitch, please just listen-”  
  
“Mitch, calm down,” Max tries to cut in, eyes locked on his big brother.  
  
“Why? So you can lie to me? So you can pretend there’s nothing going on? You’re wearing wedding rings, Dad-” Mitch hisses.   
  
Mark takes a deep breath, catching Brendon’s eye as he grabs hold of the blonde’s hand and cups it gently. “I’m sorry, I never wanted you to find out this way but Brendon and I, well, we’re engaged,”  
  
“Engaged?” Mitch repeats incredulously. “You’re engaged to _Brendon_ ,"  
  
Mark nods once as he watches Mitch push away from the table and storm out of the room. “Mitch!” He calls out, worry brushing over his features.   
  
“Mark,” Brendon whispers, his thumb stroking over Mark’s fingers. “Just let him have a little time to process this. He’s going to be angry, he’s never had to share you before,”  
  
Mark opens his mouth to speak but Brendon surveys him with a look.   
  
“I’m sorry Max,” Brendon says softly, eyeing the young teenager still sat at the table, his spaghetti forgotten. Max watches the door that his brother has stormed off through, worry tingling his face. He says nothing else as he stands up and leaves the dining room table, apologising for leaving his dinner as he climbs the stairs, panic knocking through his chest.   
  
Mark sits at the kitchen table, Brendon’s hand still closed over his own when he hears footsteps thunder back down the stairs, Max appearing at the door of the dining room, his blue eyes full of panic.   
  
“Mitch is gone…” He whispers, his face is pale.   



	23. Disapproval [Mitch/Alex]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark doesn't approve of Mitch's new boyfriend at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a prompt from the wonderful thef1princess on tumblr who asked for "Alex/Mitch fic (Bratva AU) where Mark is against their relationship and Seb is the supportive one."
> 
> Enjoy :)

“Hello, is Mitch home?” Mark feels his eyebrows raise when he opens the door, Beretta in hand, only to find a tall teenager standing in the doorway, mouth wide open. Mark takes in the sight of his freshly-pressed navy suit, clinging to every curve of his body, his dark hair gelled back from his face. He’s holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand, some beautiful blood-coloured roses. He worries his lip as he glances carefully at Mark.  
  
“You must be Mr Webber-” He begins as he holds his free hand out for Mark to take, however, the head of the cartel just stares at the proferred hand, his eyes locked on the teenagers.  
  
“Alex-” Mitch’s voice cuts through the silence, his eyes focused on the teenager at the door. He catches sight of the roses and his smile widens, tugging at his lips. “You didn’t have to bring flowers,” He says, accepting the flowers from Alex, his fingers lingering on the taller teenager’s for a moment.  
  
“I wanted to,” Alex says, blush dancing over his cheeks as Mitch looks down at the flowers, Mark still standing at the side, eyeing him carefully, the gun still clutched in his hands.    
  
“Dad, will you put these in water for me?” Mitch asks, smiling widely as he presses the bouquet into his father’s free hand. “Alex and I really must get going, our reservation is for seven,”  
  
  
Mark accepts the bouquet silently. Mitch smiles and is about to turn to Alex when his father’s voice cuts through the silence. “Have you got it, Mitchell?”  
  
“Of course, Dad,” Mitch says, patting one of the pockets on his suit jacket. “And the other three are concealed well too,” He says, his hand curving around Alex’s. Alex feels the blush spread over his neck as he watches the man’s dark eyes fall on their entwined hands as Mitch pulls him away from the front door.  
  
“Sorry about that,” He begins, smiling gently at Alex.  
  
“Mitchell,” Mark calls from the front door. “Don’t forget that you need to be back by eleven, or I will send for you,”  
  
Alex watches Mitch roll his eyes, his hand still wrapped around Alex’s. “Of course,” He says, sighing heavily as they walk towards Alex’s Aston Martin. He slides into the passenger seat as Alex climbs into the driver’s side, his eyes moving towards the front door where Mitch’s father is still stood.  
  
“Sorry about my dad, he can get quite overprotective,” Mitch says, his brown eyes falling on Alex. Alex worries his lip as he starts the car, still watching Mark Webber’s dark eyes on him as he asks Mitch to fasten his seatbelt. Mitch does so with a raised eyebrow as they pull away down the driveway. It’s only when the iron gates close that Mark finally disappears from view and Alex feels like he can breathe.  


* * *

  
  
Mark steps back into the house, the bouquet of roses still in his hand. He examines them carefully as he walks into the kitchen. They’re not cheap by any means, they’re expensive roses, he realises as he fills the sink with water and carefully lays the flowers down. He worries his lip thinking about Mitch in the Aston Martin, he wonders if this Alex is a good driver, if he will protect Mitch from harm. He considers calling up his bodyguards just to be sure.  
  
He pulls his phone out, scrolling down through the old messages - he’s done his homework on Alexander Lynn ever since Mitch had finally caved and told him that he was going on a date - he knows that he’s the heir of the Firm, that he goes to a fancy private school in Essex and he likes playing polo and going fox hunting. He also knows that Alexander Lynn has been trained to use a gun since he was six years old and that he can be lethal. He dials a familiar number and waits.  
  
“Hello?” Sebastian picks up within a minute. “Why are you calling?”  
  
“Mitchell has a date tonight,” Mark says crisply, flipping through the insurance report on the kitchen counter, his eyes on the roses. “With Alexander Lynn,”  
  
“I was aware, it’s not the first time they’ve got on a date, Mark,” Sebastian says, his tone slightly amused.  
  
“What?” Mark asks, stopping on the page that lists the driver’s details. “What do you mean?”  
  
Sebastian sighs heavily. “He didn’t want to tell you about Alex because he knew you wouldn’t like the thought of him dating,”  
  
“He’s not supposed to date,” Mark says sharply. “You of all people should know that,”  
  
“Alexander is a sensible boy,” Sebastian argues back as Mark examines the petals of the blood-red roses.  
  
“A sensible boy who happens to be the heir to the Firm? Jenson has connections back to Fernando, are you sure that Mitchell will be safe-”  
  
“I’ve done my homework, Mark,” Sebastian says quietly. “He’s a good kid. Straight A student, sensible, quiet, polite,”  
  
“And heir to one of the most traitorous families in history, Sebastian. You can’t think this is a good idea sending our son out with a Lynn for gods sake,”  
  
“Look, I’m not arguing with you any longer over it. This is about Mitch and what makes him happy, Alexander makes our son happy, why can’t you accept that?” Sebastian asks, his voice full of hurt.  
  
Mark doesn’t say another word as he closes the folder in front of him. “You’ve sent your men haven’t you?” Sebastian asks accusingly.  
  
“Just to ensure Mitchell’s safety and my legacy,” Marks says crisply before he hangs up, his eyes still on the roses on the sink.  


* * *

  
  
Alex finds himself relaxing as Mitch smiles at him across the table from the expensive restaurant they’re in. Mitch snags a breadstick from the middle of the table and nibbles at it slowly, his tongue catching the small crumbs from his lip.  
  
“You’re quiet,” Mitch comments, taking another bite as the waiter brings over an expensive looking bottle of red wine and fills up their wine glasses. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“It’s nothing,” Alex says, shrugging out of his suit jacket and taking a sip of the wine. “Just leave it,”  
  
“Lex, talk to me,” Mitch says, surveying the taller teenager.  
  
Alex sighs, knowing that he can’t resist Mitch. “I don’t think your dad likes me,” He blurts out, feeling his cheeks colour red.  
  
Mitch worries his lip as he takes a drink of his own wine. “My dad doesn’t like anyone, Lex,”  
  
“But he’s not happy that we’re together,” Alex says, placing his drink down. “His face dropped when he saw me,”  
  
“My dad doesn’t want me to date at all,” Mitch says quietly. “He’s still upset that I’m not married yet,”  
  
“You’re eighteen, Mitch,” Alex replies, worrying one of his fingernails with his teeth.  
  
“You know our family rules,” Mitch says, placing down his glass on the table.  
  
“And I remember you saying you wanted to break them,”  
  
Mitch smiles gently. “Of course I do,” He takes Alex’s hand in his own. “Look, when I was fifteen, I dated a boy named Sean and I thought I loved him..but he was working for the Galega and he hurt me,” He pauses, feeling Alex’s fingers tighten around his hand. “My dad watched me fall in love, watched me get hurt by the boy I loved more than anything,”  
  
“Mitch-” Alex begins, his thumb rubbing over Mitch’s fingers.  
  
“It’s in the past,” Mitch says. “But I guess my dad never wanted to see me go through that, to be used for my title and my status. He never really let me date since then, never really let anyone near,”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Alex whispers. “You know that I never-”  
  
“I know, Lex, I know,” Mitch replies, the small smile still on his face. “It’s okay, I’m over it now, but I guess my dad still worries about me,”  
  
Alex is about to reply when he suddenly the window they’re in front of shatters, showering them with sharp glass. He’s aware of the pain dancing over his cheek, wetness dripping down over his skin as he pushes back his chair and surges over the table, knocking Mitch to the floor. He pulls his gun out within a second, trained on the shattered window frame. He can feel Mitch underneath him, feel his ragged breathing against his skin and relief spreads over him.  
  
“What the fuck-” Mitch says breathlessly.  
  
“Don’t move,” Alex commands, his gun still ready to fire. He glances down at Mitch for a moment, brushes back the dark lock of hair that’s fallen free from the hair gel, his finger rubbing over the cut on Mitch’s cheek, the blood dark against his skin.  
  
“Alex-” Mitch begins, swallowing heavily.  
  
“Don’t move, be quiet,” Alex whispers, his eyes moving to glance back out of the window. Screams from the other diners and bystanders soon melt away into silence as a lone figure enters the restaurant, smiling at the shattered window. Alex grits his teeth, his gun moving to hover on the shadowed figure in front of them, Mitch still underneath him, breathing still ragged. The figure moves closer, the glass crushing underneath his expensive Armani shoes.  
  
“You passed the test, Alexander,” The familiar Australian voice calls out, smile on his handsome face. Mark Webber stands before the pair, his eyes gleaming as he takes in the sight of Alex shielding his only son.  


* * *

  
  
“I can’t believe this!” Mitch hisses, wrenching himself out of his father’s Porsche and storming into the house after his father. “You could have killed me or Alexander,”  
  
“Adrian never misses a shot, he wasn’t aiming for you two,” Mark says, sliding off his jacket as he walks towards the kitchen. Mitch watches him pull out a bottle of whiskey and a glass, tipping a little of the amber liquid into it. He knocks it back with a grimace. “Listen, I had to test him-”  
  
“You had to test him? By making us look like complete _psychos_ ,” Mitch hisses.  
  
“Mitchell, calm down,” Mark says, pushing the glass away. “I had to make sure that he would protect you in any circumstance,”  
  
“So I passed?” Alex pipes up, arms folded, anger evident on his face. “You could have hurt us,”  
  
Mark rolls his eyes. “Like I said, I was never aiming for you. You passed the test, Lynn,”  
  
“The only person I need to prove myself to is Mitch,” Alex says, quiet fury in his voice.  
  
Mark is silent.  
  
“I can’t believe you-” Mitch begins.  
  
“I did it for your own good, Mitchell, to make sure that Lynn was good enough for you. Remember Sean? Remember when he almost took you against your will? Did you forget about everything?”  
  
“Don’t you dare-” Mitch shrieks. “Why can’t you be normal? Why can’t you be happy for me?”  
  
“You’re my only son!” Mark screams back. “I have to keep you safe!”  
  
“Shooting at me and my boyfriend through a window isn’t keeping me safe, Dad!” Mitch says, his cheeks red with anger.  
  
“Don’t you dare raise your voice to me, Mitchell,” Mark growls dangerously, stalking over to his only son. Mitch holds his gaze defiantly. However, Alex appears, snagging his hand, placing himself between Mitch and his father. “You better move, Lynn,”  
  
“Make me, Mr Webber,”  
  
The ghost of a smile dances over Mark’s mouth as his hand moves to fist into Alexander’s shirt. “It’s better if you don’t get involved in family business, Alexander,” He spits, eyes dark, his fist twisting into the material. “You might regret it,”  
  
“Mark!” Another voice cuts through the silence. Sebastian stands in the doorway of the kitchen, eyes narrowed. “What are you doing? Let go of Alexander,”  
  
“I could ask you the same question,” Mark begins, turning slightly, his fist still clenched into Alex’s shirt before he loosens it reluctantly. “Oh, I see, Mitch called you and told you, right?”  
  
“Told me about your little deal with the glass window. Mark, why are you doing this?” Sebastian says, sighing heavily. “Don’t you want our son to be happy?”  
  
“I want him to be safe, first and foremost,” Mark says crisply.  
  
“I was safe, Dad,” Mitch argues.  
  
“Why do you always use the safety thing as an excuse? Mitch can defend himself. You didn’t have the bodyguards?” Sebastian cuts in.  
  
“He’s my only heir, Sebastian. I don’t have the same luxury you do,” Mark snaps. “I have to protect him,”  
  
“There’s protecting him and there’s smothering him,” Sebastian argues. “And you wonder why he never tells you anything?” He says with an exasperated sigh. “They’ve been dating for months,”  
  
“Months?” Mark says, his mouth suddenly dry. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His eyes lock on his son’s, on his and Alex’s clasped hands.  
  
“Because I knew you’d do this,” Mitch says quietly, looking down at the floor. “I love him, Dad, why can’t you see that?”  
  
Mark doesn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes find the roses still in the sink. “I don’t want to lose you, Mitchell,”  
  
“You’ll lose me even more if you don’t let me go, Dad,” Mitch says, looking down at his feet.  
  
“But I-”  
  
“Listen to me, Dad,” Mitch says, his brown eyes locked on his father. “Sean was in the past, Alex is my future,” His hand finds Alex, clasping it gently.  
  
Silence falls in the kitchen for what seems like an eternity before Mark sighs, the fight dropping out of him. He turns to lock his eyes on Alexander, holding his gaze.  
  
“You have my permission to date my son,” He says, finally. “But if you ever hurt him-”  
  
“I’m aware of the circumstances, Sir,” Alex replies, his eyes trained on the older man. His hand squeezes Mitch tighter and they share a brief smile.


	24. Don't give up (on love) [Pierre/Max]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for my darling Sarah because i wanted to give her something for being so amazing <3 If you've read the other chapters you should already know about the Bratva family but i need to add that Pierre is Hulk's son, and Checo is acting as his step father, other than that everything else should be straight forward. I hope you enjoy! :)

_Pierre <3: I’m outside :P xx_

Max glances down at the message on his phone, Pierre’s name flashes up on the screen with a small red heart beside it. He types a quick response back, quietly pushing the covers away and grabbing his worn hoodie – the one he knows Pierre loves. He’s sure that the entire house will be asleep – his parents and grandparents went to bed long ago, and if Dany is still awake he’ll be too busy with Carlos to notice him sneak past their room.

He creeps down the stairs, biting his lip when the 4th step creaks beneath his foot. He stops for a moment, glancing over his shoulder, but the lights stay off and there isn’t any movement from his family’s room. Max takes in a deep breath before he continues down the stairs, his phone vibrating in his pocket as Pierre sends him another text.  
However before he can pull it out to reply, he bumps into a small body, their hands curling around the top of Max’s arm to stop him from tripping down the stairs. His heart skips a beat, the initial shock of bumping into someone soon settles when he meets the dark eyes of his older brother.

“Where are you going?”  
Mitch says quietly, raising his eyebrow at his younger brother.  
“Just, out”  
Max says, brushing past Mitch before he can pry any further. He hears Mitch sigh, but neither of them say anything else as Mitch heads up the stairs and Max disappears out the front door, closing it quietly behind him. His phone vibrates once more but this time the text that flashes up on screen is from Mitch.

 _Mitch: I know where you’re going, don’t worry I won’t tell dad :)_  
  
Max lets out a sigh of relief as he sends a text of thank you to his brother. He’s not quite sure where Pierre is, he’s usually by the garages leaning against Max’s car in the darkness – one of the few places their bodyguards don’t patrol. He heads around the front of the house, managing to avoid the flashlight of one of their guards as he reaches the dark garage.  
“Pierre?”  
He whispers, flicking up the torch on his phone and glancing about. His voice is answered when he feels a soft pair of lips crush against his own, arms wrapping around his neck as Pierre presses their bodies together. Max whines against his boyfriends lips; he’d missed this, it had been too long since they’d seen each other.  
“Missed you”  
Max says between kisses, eventually pulling away as he fumbles for his car keys. He feels Pierre press against him again, his arms curling around his waist and his half hard cock brushing against his arse.

  
“Mm, I missed you too”  
Pierre says softly, his lips finding the back of Max’s neck. Max bites his lip, his hand shaking slightly as he pulls his key from his pocket, wanting nothing more than to get Pierre into the back and bury his cock into the Frenchman.  
He pushes Pierre gently into the back seat, reaching up to flick the small light on, and its glow casting soft shadows on Pierre’s face. Max takes a moment to look over Pierre, the face he hadn’t seen in over a month. He runs his finger along Pierre’s jawline, down his neck and across the prominent collarbone, a smile spreading onto his face when he sees Pierre shiver underneath his touches. He leans down to press his lips against Pierre’s neck, the elder boy lets out a soft sigh and tilts his head back, exposing more of the soft skin.

  
“Someone really missed me”  
Max says quietly, a small laugh bubbling from his lips when his fingers slip past the waistband of Pierre’s joggers, brushing over his hard cock through his boxers. Pierre whines in response, his hands brushing through Max’s hair to grab at the thick locks. He rubs at Pierre through his boxers, a smirk bursting over his lips when Pierre arches into the touch and groans out Max’s name.  
“What do you want?”  
Max whispers against Pierre’s skin, his teeth worrying the skin just above his collarbone, sucking it between his lips until he’s certain there will be a pretty purple bruise there.  
“Tell me what you want Pierre”

  
He pulls away slightly, pressing a gentle kiss against the now bruised skin as he moves to look down into Pierre’s eyes.  
“Max please, just fuck me”  
Pierre breathes out, glancing up at Max through half lidded eyes, his wet lips parted to let out shaky breaths – and who was he to say no? He smiles down at Pierre, his hand slipping into his boxers as he gently runs his fingertips across the head of Pierre’s cock, the pre come sticking to his fingers. Max catches Pierre’s moan in his mouth, his tongue pushing past his lips as they kiss slowly, Pierre’s fingers slipping down to rest against the nape of his neck, catching the small tufts of hair in his grasp.  
He forgets about everything in that moment, forgets about his parents, about the hatred his family holds for Pierre’s or the look of disgust that would dance across his father’s face if he ever caught them. Max loses himself to the pleasure, the consequences of his relationship that last thing on his mind.

* * *

  
“What kind of time do you call this then?”  
Max looks away from his father’s gaze, the annoyance and anger shining in his blue eyes – so much like his own – cut through him.  
“Max, where have you been?”  
The harsh German accent curls around his father’s words.  
“I just went out”  
Max shrugs in response, chancing a glance at his father’s face. His blue eyes are burning with anger, but there’s still a slight softness behind them, and he can pick out the hint of worry.

  
“Max you can’t just go out without protection, you know if the Perez family saw you they would snatch you up in a heart-“  
His father’s words trail off, his eyes dropping away from Max’s and it takes him a moment to figure out what his father was looking at. His hand shoots up in an attempt to cover the love bite on his neck, but his father grabs his wrist before he can, his eyes narrowed in anger.  
“What the hell is that?”  
His father snarls, roughly tugging Max’s wrist as he drags him through the front room and towards the kitchen. Max lets out a groan when he sees his dad – Daniel – sat at the table with a mug of coffee, papers spread across the dark wood.

  
“Seb I’m busy what’s wrong?”  
His dad says with a sigh, pulling the glasses away from his face as he offers Max a smile.  
“He comes home at 8am in the morning, I have no idea where he went and now he’s got-“  
His father pushes him forward, his hand curling around Max’s hair to pull his head back to show the purple bruise on the side of his neck.  
“That”  
His dad rolls his eyes in response, slipping his glasses back onto his nose and turning his attention to the papers once more.  
“Daniel,”  
“Seb he’s 17, let him have a bit of fun before your dad drags him into this life”  
Max manages to pull away from his father’s tight grip, disappearing back to his own room the moment his dad says he can leave.

* * *

  
Max’s fingers run over the bracelet curled around his wrist as he lies on his bed. He wishes it wasn’t like this sometimes – that he could of fallen in love with someone his family would approve of or waited until they picked a suitor. He thinks back to the time he met Pierre - at the club his brother had dragged him to a few months ago – when he’d caught Pierre’s pleading eyes from the bar and threatened to murder the guy that had been harassing him.  
  
Things were simple at first, when they met up for lunch and headed to the cinema, but when Max found out who his parents were, what they’d done to his uncle Dany, he knew that if his parents found out they’d put Pierre down in the blink of an eye. His phone buzzes from the side, Pierre’s name flashes up on the screen and a smile spreads onto his lips as he opens up the text.  
  
Pierre  <3: I never said last night, but I love you Maxy <3 xx  
  
He’s about to type out a response to Pierre, but his bedroom door creaks open and Max shoves his phone back into his pocket as the person pops their head around the door. He relaxes when he sees Mitch’s smile, and nods his head at his brother for him to come in.  
“I need to talk to you”  
Mitch says, dropping down beside him on the bed, the hint of worry dancing in his brown eyes.  
“Alright, what’s wrong?”  
“You need to stop seeing Pierre”  
Max blinks at him in confusion – he’d told him about Pierre the first moment they’d spoken, told him about who his family were and not once had Mitch said to him to stop.  
  
“Why? I thought you said-“  
“Forget what I said, look I know you care about him but this isn’t just about you anymore, if anyone finds out about you two our whole family will be in danger”  
Max can feel the anger creeping up in his veins, can feel the hurt and abuse resting on his tongue that he’s just about managing to hold back.  
“So you want me to give up Pierre but it’s completely fine for you to stay with Alex right?”  
Max spits back. He knows he can hit a nerve when he mentions the Brit – the boy he’s too been keeping secret from their parents, from his fiancé.  
“Max”  
Mitch warns, but the anger is still burning, the need to hurt his brother and let him know how it feels.  
  
“Oh no, if I can’t see him then you can’t see Alex, I mean it would be a shame if Pascal found out that you’re fucking someone else behind his back”  
“You wouldn’t fucking dare, you know why I’m doing this”  
Mitch growls, pulling himself away from Max and glares down at him, his usually soft brown eyes filled with hatred and sharp edges.  
“You say even one thing and I’ll tell grandpa Christian about this”  
That manages to stop Mitch this time, and he watches as his older brother throws him a final glare before disappearing out of Max’s room, the door slamming behind him.  
Max drops down into the pillows, a sigh passing his lips as he grabs his phone – he hates arguing with his brother, hates to see the hurt in his soft brown eyes. He pulls Pierre’s text up, typing out a reply before he rests his arms against his eyes that are slowly sliding shut.  
  
_Me: I love you too xx_

* * *

  
Dinner is far from simple that night – his parents can see the tenseness between himself and Mitch, his father spends most of the time talking to Max’s grandparent’s about the lovebite and extra protection. His father seems to sense there’s something wrong, and catches his attention from the opposite side of the table, nudging his head towards the living room before Max excuses himself and follows his father into the other room.  
“Are you okay Max?”  
His father asks, the soft and caring smile ever present across his face as he gently squeezes at Max’s shoulder.  
  
“I-yeah, I just had an argument with Mitch about something”  
“You want to tell me about it?”  
Max shakes his head in response.  
“No it’s okay, I’ll talk to him before bed tonight, but thank you dad”  
A small smile spreads onto Max’s lips and he happily accepts the comforting squeeze from his dad, enjoying the love and warmth he seems to radiate. He stays there for a moment more before the two of them head back into the dining room.

* * *

  
“Hey Mitchy?”  
Max gently knocks on his brother’s door, waiting outside for a brief moment, but even without the reply he pushes open the door and steps inside.  
“What do you want?”  
He hears Mitch’s voice from underneath the covers, muffled by his thick duvet. Max shakes his head at the lump that’s his brother, and drops down onto the bed beside him, pulling back the duvet slightly.  
  
“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t of said what I did but I was just annoyed in the moment and, yeah”  
Max trails off, glancing away from his brothers gaze. It’s silly to argue about this really, they’d both promised to keep this a secret from their family and tearing each other apart certainly wouldn’t help the situation.  
  
Mitch sighs quietly, and Max knows he’s already given in when he lifts the covers for Max to slip underneath. He’s missed this – being so close to his older brother, the person who means the most to him in this entire world. Max curls his arm over his brother’s waist – the protective instinct kicking in – as he’s pulled under by the depths of sleep too soon, a soft smile lingering on his face.

* * *

  
“Pierre are you sure, _ah_ -“  
The small thought of worry disappears from his mind when Pierre’s fingers close around his cock, gently stroking him to hardness. He can feel his phone vibrating in his pocket – the 5th time since he left, Max notes – but Pierre tightens his grip on Max’s cock, his fingertips glide across the tip and Max finds himself ignoring his mobile as the pleasure takes over.  
  
“You know,”  
Pierre starts, his lips pressing against Max’s ear, his teeth nip at the soft skin before he speaks again.  
“If we ran away now, we could do this without sneaking around all the time”  
Max bites his lip, his head tilting against the hard brick wall as Pierre’s breath tickles against his ear. His phone vibrates again, the noise now becoming irritating and his fingers slip into his pocket to turn it off.  
  
“Y-Yeah? Where would we go?”  
Max replies, struggling to focus on the words. Pierre’s hand is too distracting, his palm rubs against the head and god, the way his wrist flicks has Max squirming beneath the touches. The reply that comes wasn’t one he’d expected, it’s not Pierre’s voice and he’d recognise the anger and harsh words anywhere.  
Max’s eyes flick open, and he has just enough time to push Pierre behind him before he catches his father’s gaze, the gun held tightly between his fingers.  
  
“Get the _fuck_ away from my son”  
His father growls; cheeks flushed red in anger and his lips quirked up into a snarl. Max tightens his grip on the shaking boy behind him, willing him to stay there, where Max can protect him.  
“How did you know where I was?”  
Max says, his eyes not once leaving from the gun clasped in his father’s hands.  
“Your phone, and it’s a good job I did, is this the prick you’ve been sneaking out with?”  
His blue eyes are burning with an anger Max has never seen before, and for the first time in his life he finds himself shaking under his father’s gaze. He doesn’t get a word in before his father speaks again, stepping closer to his son.  
  
“Do I have to remind you what his fucking parents did to me and my brother? The sick fucks almost killed Dany and here you are, fucking their offspring?”  
“He’s not like them!”  
Max finally spits back, his eyes narrowed as he stares his father down, trying to keep Pierre as close as possible.  
“Oh and how would you know Maximillian? How do you know that he wouldn’t murder us all in our sleep?”  
  
This time when his father steps closer, Max doesn’t have the time to react and his hand curls around his wrist, yanking him away from Pierre.  
“Please, don’t hurt him”  
He hates himself for sounding so weak, hates the fact tears are pricking at the corner of his eyes. Surprisingly, his father seems to listen, and slowly lowers the gun away from Pierre’s chest.  
“You ever come near our family again, you won’t be walking out alive”  
His father growls, before he’s roughly tugging Max away, away from the boy he loves, the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with. It hurts to be torn apart like this, but he’s not giving up on Pierre yet, he _can’t_ give up.


	25. Protection [The Alonso family]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emma this time! God it feels forever since I last wrote Bratva and for once it's about the Galega! I need to point out 2 things since people are getting a little confused. 1) each chapter is a separate fic and will not always carry on from something else, and that also means the rules and pairings we established might not always be the same. And 2) Alex and Jenson are brothers so before he's married off to Mitch he's part of the Galega. Apart from that everything else is the same and I hope you all enjoy! <3

Alex smiles down at the tiny boy in his arms, bundled up in a soft blanket as he reaches his hand out to grab at Alex's face. His newly born nephew - now named Carlos after a long argument between his brother and his fiance - is absolutely gorgeous. His skin is slightly tanned, a couple freckles dance across his cheeks and his big brown eyes stare up at Alex. He's so much like Fernando he thinks, brushing back the already thick hair across his head.

"Hey Carlos"  
Alex says softly, his smile widening when Carlos closes his tiny fist around one of fingers.   
"You definitely got your good looks from Fernando, chiquito"  
Alex lets out a surprised laugh when he feels his brother - Jenson - lightly punch him in the arm, but there's still a smile across his face.   
"He really loves you Lex, I have to say I'm a little jealous"   
Jenson says softly, his fingers gently running across his son's face.

Alex can already feel the protective instinct kick in, he knows that Carlos will be bred up to take over the Galega, that he'll be on everyone's hit list - and Alex wants to do everything in his power to protect the young prince.   
"Hey,"  
Jenson says, his hand gently brushing across the skin of Alex's wrist.

He looks away from his nephew for a moment to glance up into Henson's blue eyes.   
"He's safe here, you don't have to worry"   
Alex nods in response, his lips quirking up into a smile.   
"I promise"  
And Alex believes him, his brother has never been wrong, and he has enough faith to trust him this time.

* * *

  
Alex can't sleep that night. Something is keeping his body awake, fear is running through his veins and his heart is pounding quicker in his chest - but he can't pinpoint why. He throws the covers off his body, sweat still clinging to his body as he opens up a window. The lights flicker in the distance, the moon shines down on the grounds below, the only sound being the beat of his own heart. Alex stays there for a while, the cool breeze brushing over his flushed red cheeks. However, he soon finds himself seeking out his gun - the glock 19 his brother had bought him for his 12th birth - his finger curling around the trigger.

The silence of the night stays, his heart beating in his chest the only sound about, and Alex is about to put his gun back under his bed, until the faintest sound comes from down the hallway - the room where his little nephew is sleeping. Alex doesn't think of anything else as he quietly pushes his door open, creeping down the hallway with his gun raised. He's probably over reacting, that when he opens the door Jenson or Fernando will be bottle feeding their son, laughing quietly when they see Alex - but he isn't taking any risks tonight, something doesn't feel right. He hears the sound again, this time much louder, and the brief cry of Carlos before they die down, almost like his mouth is muffled.

Alex slams the door open, the wood cracking against the wall as his eyes flicker to the dark figure hovering above Carlos. He can't quite make them out in the dark, but he can see the gun in their hand, and their fingers curled around his nephew.   
"Get the fuck off him"  
Alex snarls, stepping forward and pressing the nose of the gun against their back. He doesn't have the chance to do anything else, the shadow is too quick, their hand connect's with his nose, the loud crack echoing around the room. Alex pushes the pain to the back of his mind, ignores the blood pouring down his face and keeps his gun raised. Their face is more visible now - the dark skin, freckled nose and cold brown eyes recognisable anywhere.

"What are you doing here Perez?"  
He says, spitting the blood away that's dripping down onto his lips. Perez merely just smiles in response, his fingers still dancing across Carlos' soft hair. There's a rag in his tiny mouth, his screams muffled by the material.   
"I'm here to claim what's mine"   
Alex lunges towards the man the moment he sees the gun raise, his hands roughly clamping down onto Perez's wrist, trying to pull the gun away. However, he's much more trained than Alex and yanks his hand forward, stunning Alex for a moment before Perez kicks his foot against Alex's shin, knocking the teen to the floor.   
"Come on Alexander, I thought your dearest brother would of taught you to fight better than this"

Alex pulls himself up to his feet, rubbing the back of his hand against his bleeding nose and stumbles over to his nephew. He can pick out the fear in his brown eyes, and that breaks Alex inside.   
"So Alexander, how far are you willing to go to protect the one you love?"  
Perez whispers, his breath ghosting across the shell of Alex's ear. He isn't sure what Perez means, until he watches the man raise his gun, the barrel pointing towards his little nephew and Alex doesn't give himself time to think as he bundles the screaming boy in his arms, holding him tight to his chest as the bullet pierces through the skin of his shoulder. He hears his brothers voice first over the commotion, over his own screams of pain.

"Alex! Look at me"  
Alex flicks his eyes open, glancing about the now bright room until he settles on Jenson's face. The white hot pain spreads across his body, his fingers grasp around his brothers arm as another scream passes his lips. Jenson curls his arms around his brother, pulling him tight against his chest as Alex continues to scream against his shirt.   
"Shh, it's okay"   
Alex hears Jenson whisper, his hands gently running across his back. Alex sinks his teeth down around the material of Jenson's shirt, screaming against it when he feels Fernando's fingers brush against his shoulder, dancing across the deep wound.

"It's okay Lex I've got you, just hold on a little longer okay?"   
Jenson's words start to make less and less sense as he feels himself slipping in and out of consciousness, the pain in his shoulder worsening. Jenson pulls away for a moment, and when Alex flickers his eyes open, he's meet with big brown eyes instead of the blue of his brother.   
"Alex look, he's okay"  
Jenson whispers as he holds his son in his arms, pulling the blanket away further from his tiny body. The pain seems to subside at the sight of Carlos, free of any cuts or bruises as he waves his tiny fists about in the air, one of them clasping around Alex's shaking hand and it's that moment that he reasons that it's worth it.

 

 


	26. I've got you [Artem/Mitch]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I gotta explain things here. Dany is the Bratva captain as you should all know, but we've now some what established more of his "posse" in which Artem is his second in command and Sergey works close by Dany too. This fic was spawned from a tumblr prompt but since it was Bratva I decided to put it here. Everything else is straight forward and I hope you all enjoy!

Mitch can't remember the exact day his life was turned upside down - he remembers his parents sitting them down in his Dad's office, the dark mahogany desk oh so familiar - the one Mitch thought his Dad used to work on his lawyer cases. But it had all changed when they announced who he truly was, that his Dad ran the cartel business and his Father was heir to the Bratva.

He also doesn't remember when the lanky Russian teen worked his way into Mitch's life, with his big brown eyes and loving smile, but the two had clicked instantly, and for once his father hadn't intervened with their friendship. They'd met sometime at high school, when Mitch had been slammed against the lockers and stared down by a boy twice his height, before his - as quoted by his father, his Russian savour - had stepped in and saved Mitch from one less black eye.   
But somehow those two separate incidents had coincided, when his uncle Daniil - now the captain of the Bratva - had brought back his childhood friend, a close associate and business partner, only for Mitch to meet the same dark brown eyes and the same soft smile. 

* * *

  
"Hey"  
The touch is soft against Mitch's wrist, but it's enough to pull him away from his thoughts, tilting his head a little to glance into the exact brown eyes he'd been thinking of. Mitch takes a moment for his eyes to dance across Artem's face; he's grown since the two first met, shot up in height and lost the baby fat on his cheeks. His eyes are still as dark as they were, his smile still as soft, but he's a completely different person now, nothing like the sweet boy Mitch remembers from all those years ago.   
"I can feel how hard you're thinking from here, stop it"   
The hint of a laugh is in his voice, and Mitch smiles slightly, never being able to keep it down when he's around the Russian.

"Are you alright Mitch?"  
He doesn't really know the answer to that question - in the short term yes, he's enjoying watching the cars whiz by in Moscow, enjoying the glass of champagne and the company of the boy he'd slowly found himself falling for. But really, in the long term of things, he was far from okay. His father is at war with the Galega, his brother is in love with the heir to the el eme - his families sworn enemy - and Mitch can only wonder what his Dad is up to on the other side of the world in Australia.   
"No, I- not really"  
Mitch eventually replies, stuttering over his words, still unsure with what he really wants to say.

He shifts slightly, resting his arm against the metal railing of his balcony as he turns to face Artem, the Russian waiting for him to continue speaking.   
"I just, well I look at you, and all I can see is what I wish I was"   
Mitch says softly, his gaze dropping away from Artem's for a moment. It's true in a sense - he seems to have it so much easier than Mitch, he has the perfect house and the gorgeous cars like Mitch does, but he doesn't have the responsibility of living up to a Bratva Prince looming over his head, or the expectation of marrying the perfect partner.

"What do you mean?"  
Artem eventually says after a while, his gaze not once flicking away from Mitch.  
"You just seem to have it so easy, I mean I've got to be this perfect little prince like my family want, marry someone who I won't even love, kill innocent people for the sake of the Bratva, it's just- I never wanted that life"  
Mitch sighs, turning back to face the lights of the city, the noise of traffic seeming to calm him slightly. Artem's hand soon finds his cheek, his fingers gently dancing across Mitch's hot skin as he turns his head slightly, just enough to lock their gaze.

"I don't have it easy Mitch, not as easy as you seem to think anyway"   
Artem says quietly, his thumb swiping across Mitch's skin just below his eye. He melts underneath the touch - it had been so long since anyone touched him like that.   
"Your uncle has me under a tight leash and god forbid if I step out of line, well, you know what the punishment is"  
Mitch's eyes drop down to the small scar across Artem's arm, the one he remembers his uncle giving him a few years back. Mitch sighs quietly, stepping a little closer to Artem and drops his head down on the Russians shoulder, the first tear drop sliding down his cheek.

He feels Artem's hands gently wind around his shoulders, pressing him close against his body, the same protective instinct shining through as it always did. Mitch eventually curls his own arms around Artem, his hands resting just below his waist as he relaxes into the touch - a touch he had missed so much. A few more tears fall, dripping down onto the material of Artem's shirt, the Russian squeezing Mitch tighter in response.  
"I've got you Mitch"   
He hears Artem whisper, his lips pressing gently against his hair.  
"I always will"


	27. New Blood [Brendon/Mark]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr Brendon Hartley meets a man who will change his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, Sarah here! Although it says Brendon/Mark, there's actually no relationship stuff in here - if you know me well, you'll know that I am a hoe for beginning/origin stories and I really wanted to write this. I really enjoyed getting more into Mark as a character, getting into the meat of things. 
> 
> Warnings for like a gunshot wound and all the gross things that go with treating that. 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

Dr Brendon Hartley sighs heavily as he snaps off his latex gloves, trying to ignore the tiredness creeping in his bones. He glances up at the clock - seven minutes to three - the ward is eerily calm for a Saturday night, too calm, he thinks, wondering if he has time to snatch a fifteen minute nap in one of the bunks. He’s just about to place his hand on the handle to the sleeping area when a nurse barrels out of nowhere, slightly sweaty, blood covering her gloved hands.    
  
“Dr Hartley, are you on duty?”   
  
Brendon wants to tell her no, but he finds himself nodding and following her to one of the side rooms. He stops short as he surveys the man sitting on the bed - he’s  _ handsome _ . Jet black hair, a chiselled, stubbled jaw and a tight, navy suit that clings to every curve of his body, the man looks up at Brendon with his dark brown eyes and grins widely, bright white teeth on display.    
  
“Hello, Doctor,” The man says, the smile clinging to his lips.    
  
Brendon doesn’t respond, he just grabs a pair of new latex gloves from the container and pulls them on, turning to the nurse on duty. “So what’s the problem?”   
  
“Gunshot wound,” The nurse says quietly. “He dug it out himself with a knife, wounds quite deep though, might need a stitch or two,”   
  
Brendon nods once, glancing to look at the chart in the nurse’s hand. “So… Mr Brabham,” He says, his eyes flicking to finally meet the handsome man’s eyes. “How did this happen?”   
  
The man - Mr Brabham - smiles widely. “Accident with an air rifle, I was out shooting ducks with my friend and he accidentally caught my shoulder-”   
  
Brendon raises an eyebrow as he carefully probes the wound - the bullet is gone, the edges of the wound slightly raised and bloodied. “What did you use to get the bullet out?”   
  
“Hunting knife,” The man says quietly. “Knew I had to dig it out, hurt like a bitch though,”   
  
Brendon hums under his breath, checking the wound carefully, it’s still bleeding sluggishly, the dark blood slipping down over the man’s tanned skin. “Strange how the bullet hasn’t come out in one piece as game bullets usually do, there’s still some shrapnel left in there,”   
  
“Really?” The man feigns surprise. Brendon resists the urge to roll his eyes as he fiddles around for a pair of tweezers. His fingers close over them as the dark brown eyes gaze at him, the man’s smile still curving over the corner of his lips. “You know, you look awfully young to be a doctor,”   
  
“I can assure you, Sir, that I am old enough to be treating you, I’ve been a doctor for several years now,” Brendon says, his eyes focused on the wound, he flushes away some of the dried blood around the corners of the wound as he spots a small piece of metal embedded in the flesh.    
  
“Really?” The man says, Brendon watches his eyes drift over to his nametag, “Dr Hartley,” He fights the urge to bite his lip, the tweezers slowly curving around the small black piece of metal in the flesh. “I’ve never seen you before,”   
  
“Do you make a habit of shooting yourself in the middle of the night and coming to a hospital, Mr Brabham?” Brendon says, digging deeper into the flesh.   
  
He’s harsher than he usually is, but he figures it’s within reason. There’s something strange about the man before him, something that doesn’t sit right. The man however, jumps, grimacing in pain as Brendon slowly pulls the shrapnel out of his shoulder, smiling as the small piece glitters in the harsh sterile light. Brendon carefully places the bloodied piece of metal onto a tray and picks up the penlight, shining it in the wound for any parts that he’s missed.    
  
“I think you’ll need about four stitches,” Brendon says, eyes still on the wound. He places the penlight down and smiles at the man. “Though, I’m afraid you’ll have to come back for them to be taken out,”   
  
The man smiles back. “Shame I don’t have any alcohol handy to numb the pain,”   
  
“This should do the trick,” Brendon says as the nurse hands him some anaesthetic before she pulls the equipment out of its sterile packaging.   
  
He feels the man’s brown eyes burning into him as he works quickly, neatly threading the needle through the man’s skin, the skin pulling itself back together by help of the stitches. The skin soon disappears beneath the heavy black stitches, the man barely flinches at the contact, looking rather bored. Brendon takes the time to glance over the rest of his body. His knuckles are slightly battered and bruised, there’s a bruise on his upper arm and there’s blood under his fingernails, gunshot residue on the back of his hand.    
  
“See something you like, Dr Hartley?” The man says with a devilish smirk.    
  
Brendon feels the blush dance over his cheeks as he carefully ties the suture up, knotting it neatly. “You need to come back in ten to twelve days to get your stitches taken out, if they pop open or you see any pus or any sign of infection, come straight back,” Brendon says, wiping over the area before he pulls off his gloves, disposing of them in the nearest bin. He accepts the chart from the nurse who disappears to dispose of the equipment as Brendon begins writing into the patient’s chart.   
  
“Is all that paperwork necessary?” The man says, pushing his blood-stained white shirt back over his shoulder carefully. “I mean, you’re never going to see me again-”   
  
“It’s protocol, Mr Brabham,” Brendon says, carefully, his eyes still locked on the chart in front of him. However, the man - Mr Brabham - pulls himself to his full height, his eyes glittering as he stares at Brendon, his hand closing around his wrist.    
  
“Mr Brabham, what-”   
  
The man doesn’t speak, his dark brown eyes focused on Brendon as he pushes a wad of banknotes into the doctor’s hand. “Mr Brabham, what are you doing-”   
  
“I want you to dispose of that chart you’re writing, Dr Hartley,” The man says quietly, the smile still clinging to his face. “You see, I need to disappear-”   
  
“I’m not accepting your money, Mr Brabham,” Brendon says, quietly. “I won’t be bribed,”   
  
“See, Dr Hartley,” The man says with his wide smile. “I’m not asking you, I’m  _ telling _ you,” He says, the money pressing against Brendon’s hand. “I want that paperwork to disappear,”   
  
“Who are you?” Brendon asks, eyes narrowed.    
  
“You don’t want to find out, Dr Hartley,” The man says, smiling as he slips on his suit jacket and brushes away the creases. “It was nice doing business with you,” He says as he walks away from Brendon.  
  
The door closes softly and Brendon looks down at the chart, worrying his lip. He slips the money into his pocket, it feels like it burns as he holds the chart close to his chest, the tiredness no longer sinking in his bones. He tries to lay back in one of the scratchy bunks and waits for sleep to overtake him, but it doesn’t come. He thinks only of dark brown eyes and of the money burning into his pocket.    
  
It’s not until he’s leaving four hours later, the dawn breaking over the London skyline as he pulls on his thick coat. His hand curls into his pocket, only to feel the banknotes still curled in his pocket. He thinks about the paperwork he didn’t file, still in his locker at work before he pulls the notes out - there’s hundreds and hundreds, Brendon estimates he’s holding over five thousand pounds in his hand. He worries his lip before he pulls his coat tighter, his footsteps clatter over the pavement as he finds himself shoving the notes into the nearest bin, his chest tightening as he does so.    
  
He doesn’t notice the bright blue eyes watching him.    
  


* * *

  
  
It’s not until a week later, he’s enjoying his one day off with a can of beer and some motorsport on the television when he’s interrupted by a sharp knock on his door. Furrowing his brow, he goes to open the door and his eyes immediately widen at the sight of the man before him. Mr Brabham stands before him, grinning, in another tight-fitting tailored suit, this time in black.    
  
“Dr Hartley,” He says, the mega-watt grin still on his face.    
  
“What are you doing here? How did you find my address?” Brendon says, his face paling.    
  
“That’s for me to know and you to find out, Dr Hartley,” The man says, smiling. “Besides, you threw my gift into the bin, I had to give it back to you,” He says, holding out another wad of fresh banknotes.    
  
Brendon shakes his head, backing away from the door. “I’m calling the police,”   
  
“You won’t want to do that, Brendon,” The man says, still holding out the money.    
  
“How did you know my name?” Brendon says, panic seizing at his chest.    
  
“Like I know a lot of things about you, Dr Hartley,” The man grins. “I know that you studied medicine at Oxford, that you graduated top of your class, that you’re twenty five, that you enjoy motorsport and you like ice cream,”   
  
“What the-” Brendon says, his mouth dry. “Have you been stalking me?”   
  
“I don’t like that word, Dr Hartley,” the man says, narrowing his eyes. “I prefer the term interested. You _interest_ me, so I thought I would-”   
  
“Stalk me,” Brendon says quietly. “Look, Mr Brabham, I-”   
  
“Mr Webber, actually,” The man says carefully, his brown eyes still locked on Brendon. “I had to give you an alias, just in case,”   
  
“In case you didn’t trust me,” Brendon says, pushing away the money. “I don’t want your money, Mr Webber,”   
  
“But you didn’t hand the paperwork in, Dr Hartley,” Mr Webber says carefully. “I owe you and I repay all my debts,”   
  
“I don’t, I just want you to leave me alone,” Brendon says, shaking his head.    
  
“I don’t want to,” The man admits quietly, his eyes flickering to meet Brendon’s. “As I said, you interest me, Dr Hartley. You refuse my money, you refuse to be paid your debt. Why?”   
  
“Because I don’t want any part in your business, whatever you’re mixed up in,” Brendon says, pushing the money away. “Now, I suggest you leave before I call the police,”   
  
“Dr Hartley-” The man begins but Brendon shakes his head and closes the door before the man can say another word. His shaking hands fold over his chain as he leans against the wood, feeling his heart beat heavily against his chest.    
  
“Playing hard to get, I see,” Mr Webber says, stuffing the money back into his pocket as he sighs heavily, turning on his heel. “I think we will meet again, Dr Hartley,” He says, glancing at the door one last time before he leaves.    
  
“Fuck,” Brendon whispers under his breath, his hands still shaking on the chain, wondering what he’s got himself in for. 


	28. Sorry [Max/Pierre]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max gets tangled up with a dangerous and lethal young boy, the heir to the el eme empire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarah here again! Two fics in one day, phew! Okay, so a bit of backstory, Pierre is the son of Sergio and Nico Hulkenberg, making him the heir of the Mexican Mafia (better known as el eme, 'the M' in Spanish!) and Max is of course, still Dan and Seb's son. A note to everyone, this is definitely a fic which deviates a little more from the canon than usual. 
> 
> For the prompt; "Go on, tell me. Tell me you don't love me" - Max/Pierre
> 
> Warnings for death and underage sex.

Max isn’t sure when this thing between them even began. He knows he shouldn’t, he knows that Pierre is forbidden fruit, that he shouldn’t even know the young French teenager. They had met by chance, at some party that Max had sneaked into, that Carlos had managed to get him an invite for. He remembers holding the crystal flute of champagne in his hand, remembers meeting the startling beautiful blue eyes, the tailored navy suit of a young man he’d never seen before. He remembers the devilish smirk dancing across the teenager’s face as his eyes had met Max’s.    
  
He doesn’t even know that Pierre is his father’s sworn enemy, the son of the lethal couple Sergio Perez and Nico Hulkenberg. Pierre’s hand brushes over his own as they gaze out on the balcony, alcohol still sticking to their tongues, blood still underneath his fingernails from his last kill. They had talked about a variety of different things, of music, of history, of everything but their pasts. Max found himself drawn towards the young man, towards his bright smile. Everything moves so quickly, before Max finds himself pressed up against the wall, next to the large photographs of himself and his fathers. He kisses back with equal fervour; his tongue pressing over Pierre’s tooth gap as his hands move to grasp the young French teenager around the waist. Drunk on alcohol and on the taste of Pierre, he finds himself guiding him into his bedroom. He presses Pierre into the sheets, kisses over the tiny freckles on pale skin, kisses the swollen lips as shaking fingers fumble at shirt buttons. Pierre kisses back, moans dropping from his lips as their bodies fold against one another.    
  
It carries on for months and months, both of them meeting up in secret, to kiss, to make love. Max feels himself falling in love with the young man - he knows he shouldn’t, he knows that it’s forbidden, that his father would never allow him to be with someone outside of their family unit. He watches Pierre sleep beneath the covers, presses a small kiss to the sweaty curls at the nape of his neck and feels the smile dance over his face. It’s easy to pretend that they’re normal, that they’re normal teenagers in love, that he’s not a Bratva prince, that his fathers don’t kill people. However, it all comes crashing down as one evening, Max peels off Pierre’s shirt that he sees the familiar dark crown branded over Pierre’s heart, the sign of the el eme. It’s fresh, blood still sticking to the wound, the edges of the skin still black from the heat.   
  
“You-” He begins, his mouth suddenly dry.   
  
Pierre doesn’t say anything, his blue eyes flicker down to look at the white sheets, his teeth caught between his lip.    
  
“You knew this whole time?” Max says, voice quiet.    
  
Pierre nods once. “I’m sorry, I just-”   
  
“Forget it,” Max says, his voice wet as he wrenches on his shirt, tries to ignore the sting of the bruise on his collarbone from Pierre’s teeth. He doesn’t look at the young heir again as he leaves the room, goes back to the party, hopes that Pierre will leave. He returns to bed a few hours later, looks down at the twisted sheets and feels the loneliness wash over him.    
  
He forgets about Pierre for a while.    
  


* * *

  
  
“Sergio Perez is dead,” He hears his father say. “And Pierre was responsible,”   
  
Max feels his heart drop like a stone. He wants to ask his father what happened, wants to know what happens now. He continues to eat his eggs in silence, thinks about Pierre as the head of the el eme, wonders if he was really capable of murdering his father. He’s heard of Pierre through snippets over breakfast and dinner, of what the young heir has achieved. He hears of Pierre taking down another drugs ring, of killing several of his father’s men who didn’t make the cut. Max finds himself thinking about Pierre sometimes when he’s lonely, when he lies awake in bed late at night, thinks about Pierre’s lips against his own.    
  
Pierre pulls a gun on him the next time they meet. He looks different, looks older. The suit he’s wearing doesn’t suit him at all and he looks to have lose some weight - maybe there’s more to running a drugs cartel than meets the eye.    
  
“Max Verstappen, nice to see you again,”   
  
“Pierre,”  Max whispers, his eyes on the gun. “So it’s true,”   
  
“I didn’t have a choice,” Pierre whispers. “Nobody understood, nobody understood the pressure I was under-”   
  
“You’re a murderer,” Max hisses. “You murdered your own father,”   
  
“You slept with your uncle’s husband,” Pierre mutters. “I don’t think you get to read anyone the riot act,” The gun wavers in his hand as Max moves closer, his eyes locked on Pierre’s.    
  
“You changed since the last time we met,” Max says, his eyes narrowed.    
  
“Of course I’ve changed-” Pierre bites out, his eyes locked on Max’s. “I’ve grown up, moved on with my life,”   
  
“Killed your father, you know, just the usual,” Max says, watching the gun carefully.    
  
“I had to, you don’t understand,” Pierre says, shaking his head, tears pricking in the corner of his eyes. “He was going to replace me, wanted to make another heir, said I wasn’t enough-”   
  
“Pierre, I-” Max says, unable to find the words. “I’m sorry-”   
  
“I just wanted to be normal, I wanted a normal life-” Pierre whispers, his eyes glassy.    
  
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Max replies. “I don’t know what to say-”   
  
“Neither do I,” Pierre says softly. “I thought...when I met you, I could be normal, that he’d understand….” He pauses. “I told him about us, those years ago, he went mad, said I’d soiled myself for a Russian whore,” His blue eyes fall to the ground. “He couldn’t understand why I loved you-”   
  
“Pierre, I, that’s in the past-” Max says, shaking his head. He can’t let Pierre get under his skin again, he can’t let the young man into his heart once more. “We’ve changed too much-”   
  
Pierre’s eyes harden and the gun moves to push against Max’s chest. “You don’t mean that-”   
  
“Pierre, I-”   
  
“Go on, Max.” Pierre says in a shaky voice. “Go on, tell me that you don’t love me,” His gun presses into Max’s chest and he feels his heart thunder against his ribs as his eyes meet Pierre’s - the same ones that he’d fallen in love with years ago, but he feels nothing.    
  
“I don’t love you,” He whispers, his mouth dry.    
  
Pierre pulls the trigger. The cold blue eyes are the last thing that Max sees before the darkness envelopes him.    
  



	29. Bullet [Carlos/Dany]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany has a choice to make; to save the boy who has tried to kill him or leave him to suffer at his father's hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarah here! I filled this a while ago but forgot to post it here. Dany is about 12 years old in this fic. Warnings for guns and mentions of blood as is normal. Posted on Tumblr a few months ago. 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

Dany awakens from his sleep late that night, gazing around his darkened room in confusion. He’s not used to waking up, his brother is the early riser - he’s usually the one who sleeps soundly through until the morning. The house is deathly quiet, too quiet - Dany frowns as he glances over to the window, to the drapes hanging from his window. He rubs his hand over his eyes cursing himself for waking up. He’s about to curl back into his sheets when he hears it. He hears the sob from one of the darkened corners of his room and stiffens, his lip caught between his teeth.

The shadows melt away and a young boy is revealed, his face is still half caught in shadow - but Dany estimates he’s not much younger than himself. His skin is tanned, his hair falls in curls over his face, his eyes dark brown and innocent. There’s tears falling down his cheeks, his shoulders heaving with heavy sobs. It’s not until Dany is about to speak to the boy he sees the gun held in his shaking fingers. He feels his heart drop in his chest.  
  
“Don’t move,” The boy says in a heavily accented voice. “Don’t move or I’ll-” He says, the tears still falling down his cheeks.  
  
Dany gazes at the boy, at the fear in his eyes, at the tears falling down his cheeks. “You don’t have to do this,”  
  
“You don’t understand,” The boy says, shaking his head. “I have to do this-”  
  
“Why?” Dany asks, eyeing the gun still shaking in the teenager’s hands. “What have I done?”  
  
“I don’t know,” The boy says, the tears still curling down his face. “My father wants me to kill you,”  
  
Dany meets the boy’s eyes, his fingers still shaking over the trigger of the gun. He slowly uncurls himself from the covers but the boy keeps the gun trained on him, gasps of air pressing over his chest.  
  
“Don’t move,” The boy says, his eyes hardening for a moment.  
  
“I’m just moving the covers away, that’s all,” Dany says carefully. “What’s your name?”  
  
“Why should I tell you?” The boy says, worrying his name.  
  
“Don’t I deserve to know who is killing me?” Dany says, his voice unwavering as the boy flinches.  
  
“Carlos,” He says, the gun still trained on Dany.  
  
“I’m Dany,”  
  
“I know who you are,” Carlos says, his dark eyes locked on him. “My father told me I have to kill you to prove myself,”  
  
“And what do you think about that?” Dany asks.  
  
“I- I’m scared,” Carlos admits, his fingers sliding over the gun. “He told me that he was grooming me for something, for something I will possess when I’m older, he said I had to prove myself to the other men,”  
  
Dany’s eyes widen. He’s been kept away from the world so far, his father is focused on ensuring that Sebastian is groomed to take over the family business, but the story seems familiar.  
  
“You’re Galega,” Dany whispers, eyes wide.  
  
Carlos is about to respond when there’s a bang and a shout from across the hallway, footsteps stomp across the marble floor, another bang cuts through the silence. “Carlos!” A voice calls out, slightly pained. “Carlos, get out!” There’s another shout before the crack of a gun pierces the silence.  
  
“Dany, Dany!” Another voice calls out and Dany stiffens in his bed, looking at the closed door. He knows that voice, it holds authority, willing Dany to answer, yet there’s a thread of fear hidden in the words.  
  
“That’s my father,” Dany whispers, watching Carlos’s face turn chalk white, his hold loosening on his gun, tears still spilling down his cheeks. “You should leave before he kills you-”  
  
His doorknob jingles, his father’s grunt from behind the door as he tries to open it. “Dany,” He hisses from between gritted teeth. Dany glances at Carlos, still holding the gun to him.  
  
“Please,” He whispers, his eyes boring into the deep brown ones. “Please, don’t do this,”  
  
“Dany-” His father’s voice cuts through the silence once more. “Open the door, Dany,”  
  
“Carlos,” Dany whispers, moving closer, the barrel of the gun brushing against his chest. “You can kill me now,” He holds the teenager’s gaze. “But you won’t get out of here alive,”  
  
“Daniil, open the door,”  
  
Carlos holds his gaze for a moment longer before he tentatively lowers the gun, a sigh of relief pushing past his lips. Dany smiles softly before his hand wraps around Carlos’s hand, he barely has time for the Spaniard to glance down at their entwined hands in shock before he’s leading him to his window.  
  
“Go,” He whispers quietly, pushing the teenager towards the open window.  
  
Carlos wavers in the window, his tanned hand still curled around Dany’s, his other hand still holding the gun. “Can I ask you something?”  
  
“Quickly,” Dany says, his eye on the door, his father still trying to get in.  
  
“Why are you willing to save me?” Carlos asks, confusion dancing over his features.  
  
“We’re not all the same,” Dany whispers. “Now go,” His hand pulls away from Carlos’s and he watches the young teenager disappear from the window, watching the window for a moment afterwards, feeling the breeze across his cheeks. He barely has time to close the window when his father barrels through the door, panicked.  
  
“Daniil,” Warm fingers rest on his cheeks. “Are you alright?”  
  
“What happened?” Dany asks, his eyes locked on his father’s. But he sees the puddle of blood in the hallway, sees the foot of someone lying there and his eyes widen, he stiffens against his father.  
  
“It had to be done,” His father says sadly. “We’re family, Mr Alonso here decided he wasn’t going to be a part of that anymore,”  
  
Dany fights to keep the image of the blood away from his mind, he tries not to imagine Carlos dead in a puddle of blood, unloved, the gun slack in his hands. Tears spring over his cheeks and his father cradles him carefully. Dany can feel his gun against his thigh as his father’s hand ghosts over his back.  
  
“It’s okay, Dany, it’s going to be okay,”  
  
Dany looks at the bloody puddle and wonders if everything was a lie.


	30. Stay The Night [Mitch/Sean]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sean is playing with fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarah here again! This was a tumblr prompt from a few weeks ago and I'm just backing up all my stuff here and elsewhere. In this fic, Mitch is married to Alex. 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

Sean knows he’s playing with fire. He knows that it’s dangerous to be with Mitch, to be with a man as dangerous as he is. But he can’t help himself - it’s nothing serious between them, there can’t be - not when Mitch is intended for another man. He glances down at the sleeping Kiwi, his skin bronzed and smooth against the cotton sheets, his thick eyelashes hiding his honey brown eyes, his chest rising and falling. Sean finds his hand moving to gently brush against Mitch’s face, to ghost his fingers over the soft cheek. Mitch stiffens slightly, his brow furrowing as he shifts into Sean’s hand, moving closer. 

Sean remembers the first time they met - back when Mitch didn’t know who he was, didn’t know that he was Bratva, when Mitch was all soft edges and smiles, that Mitch is gone, replaced by a hardened one who has dried blood between his fingernails, callouses on his fingers from the guns that had been pressed into his hands. He’d watched Mitch change, watched Mitch be forced to date Alex, to become engaged to him, he’ll never forget Mitch’s face at the engagement dinner as Alex had smiled at him, as he’d gripped the tanned hand, hard enough to bruise. Sean remembers seeing the pain in Mitch’s dark brown eyes.He knows that Mitch loves Alex - though he’s not sure why - he’s seen them together, seen Alex’s possessive arm wrapped around Mitch’s waist - and wonders if Alex tells him he loves him, if Alex brushes back his soft hair from his face and smiles.   
  
Mitch’s brow furrows and he slowly opens his eyes - Sean doesn’t miss how Mitch stiffens for a moment before his gaze settles on the taller man propped up on his elbow.   
  
“I told you to wake me,” Mitch says, his brow still furrowed as he pulls himself upright, glancing down at his expensive Rolex. “He’s going to wonder-”  
  
“Going to wonder where you are? Sure about that?” Sean says, unable to keep the venom out of his voice. “He’s probably fucking Pierre again-”  
  
“Sean, please,” Mitch says, pressing down on his temples. “I don’t want to argue,”  
  
“Why don’t you just admit it?” Sean says, grabbing hold of Mitch’s hand, his finger flicking over the thin gold band on Mitch’s finger, the enormous diamond glittering in the light. “Why don’t you admit that you don’t love him?”  
  
“Because it’s not true,” Mitch says, snatching his hand away. Sean’s eyes fall on the bruise on his collarbone, the one he’d sucked into the bronzed skin a few hours earlier. “I love Alex and-”  
  
“Is that why you’re in bed with me?” Sean says, hating how harsh his voice is.   
  
“Fucking hell, Sean, you knew the risks when we begun this-” He pauses, his hand sweeping between them. “This thing, it was never anything serious. I’m _engaged_ ,”  
  
“To a man you don’t love,” Sean begins as Mitch growls under his breath.   
  
“Fuck you, you don’t know what Alex and I have been through together, we love each other-”  
  
“That’s why you always come to me, is it, Mitchy?” Sean says, his hand moving to ghost over Mitch’s wrist. “Why you can’t give me up?”  
  
Mitch looks away, tears pricking in the corner of his eyes as he wrenches his hand away and pulls himself out of the bedsheets, shoving on his clothes quickly, his back to Sean.   
  
“Mitch, Mitch, please-” Sean begins, watching the Kiwi button up his shirt with shaking fingers, the diamond ring still glittering in the light, a reminder that Mitch will never belong to him. “Mitch, listen-”  
  
“I have to go, he will be wondering where I am, I’m sorry,” Mitch says, keeping his gaze to the floor as he smoothes out the creases in his shirt.   
  
“Mitch, stay the night, please,” Sean pleads, watching helplessly as Mitch slides on his trousers, doing up his belt without anyone word. Sean knows he’s fighting a losing battle, that he’s fighting against Alex - Alex, the love of Mitch’s life - but he’s willing to try, to stop Mitch from going back to him. “You don’t have to go-” He says, quietly.   
  
“I’m sorry,” Mitch says, shaking his head as he shoves on his shoes. “I can’t do this,”  
  
“Mitch-” Sean begins but it’s too late. Mitch leaves as quickly as he came, the only sign that he were ever there is the rumpled sheets and the scent of his cologne still hanging in the air. Sean looks at the closed door, feeling the tears prick up in his eyes.   
  
“I love you,” He announces to the room, but Mitch isn’t there to hear it, on his way back to his fiance, to their sham of a relationship. Sean’s chest wrenches as he falls back against the pillows, the ache settling into his bones.


	31. Collection [Alex & Artem]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex was hoping that he’d never have to meet him again, that he’d never have to set eyes on the man who almost ruined everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarah here! This is a fic that I kinda thought about whilst my cat was annoying me and one that Emma wouldn't leave me alone about until I wrote it. So a bit of background, Alex is married to Mitch. Artem conducted an affair with Mitch whilst he was married. They're both idiots. 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

Alex was hoping that he’d never have to meet  _ him _ again, that he’d never have to set eyes on the man who almost ruined everything. He takes a deep breath and smooths down the invisible creases on his suit, fiddling with the golden ring that’s been on his finger for two years. He stands before the mirror, peering at the man he hasn’t seen for over a year. His brow furrows as his hands curl into fists, almost white with anger, his dark eyes never leaving the man in the room.    
  
The man sits half on the chair, leg slumped haphazardly over the edge, smirking at the wall in front of him. He’s handcuffed to the table, the thick heavy chain curling over the tattoo on his wrist, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. He looks almost bored to tears; his dark eyes are fixed straight on Alex, as though he’s peering straight at the leader of the Firm, smirk still playing on the corners of his lips.     
  
“You gonna tell me what this is about?” He calls out in Russian, smirk still playing on his mouth.    
  
Alex feels the hatred rise up inside him just listening to that voice again, looking into those dark brown eyes again, watching the smirk on the corner of those lips. He can remember that smirk kissing him, his filthy hands all over his body, remembers the groan he pulled from those plush lips and his knuckles tense, growing paler.    
  
“I know it’s you, Lynn,” He leans back against the chair, still smirking, still staring straight ahead. “Why don’t you come out and tell me what you need?”   
  
Alex sighs heavily, his thumb stroking over the ring on his finger. He doesn’t want to do this, but he knows he has to, he needs the best in the business and  _ he _ , unfortunately, is the best in the business. He finally plucks up the courage to walk away from the window and approach the door. Inhaling deeply, to calm down his beating heart, his hand rests on the door handle. It’s been over a year since he saw him, since he threw him in here. He closes his eyes for a moment, thumb dropping away from the gold ring as he opens the door, finally taking in the sight of the man who almost ruined everything.    
  
“Artem Markelov,” he grounds out, eyes locked on the dark-haired man. “You haven’t changed at all,” And he  _ hasn’t _ \- Alex thinks - he still possesses the youthful face, the freckles dancing down over tanned skin and the messy dark brown hair that he had last time Alex saw him. Dark eyes bore into him.    
  
“Alexander Lynn,” Artem says, smirk still on his lips. “Neither have you, still got that enormous stick up your arse, I see,”   
  
Alex doesn’t respond to his statement as he slides into the chair opposite Artem. “I expect you’re surprised to see me here,”   
  
“I’m surprised to see you dirtying your hands for once, Lynn,” Artem bites back, leaning against the chair looking bored. “Did you realise that you needed me? Remembered that you  _ liked  _ me, hmm?”

“Like is not a word in my dictionary where you’re concerned, Markelov,” Alex says, his eyes catching the dark ones of the man he despises.    
  
Artem smirks, his hand twisting around in the handcuff, eyes dancing. “You know, such a sweet talker aren’t you Lynn? Shame it only works once before the things you love the most are lured away by more - shall we say,  _ interesting _ prospects,”   
  
Alex bites down on his tongue, his hand tightening into a fist. “You know nothing, Markelov,”   
  
“I think I know more than you think, Lynn,” Artem says as he leans forward, eyes shining. “That’s the thing about sex you see? It exposes everything, every single lie,” The smirk dances on his mouth as he leans closer. “People let go of a lot of things, that’s the beauty of an orgasm,” He pauses. “But then you never gave him one of them did you?”   
  
“Fuck you,” Alex hisses, his eyes flashing with anger.    
  
Artem smirks, his tongue slowly running over his lip. “I’d love for you to fuck me, Alexander, I didn’t know you were into bondage though,” He wiggles an eyebrow, tugging on the silver handcuff for emphasis.   
  
Alex shakes his head, trying to keep calm. He knows that roughing the Russian up, getting angry and hitting him doesn’t work. He’s Bratva. He’s conditioned to withstand torture. “I don’t want your filthy hands anywhere near me, Markelov,”   
  
“Shame your husband did though,” Artem smirks, leaning closer. “He loved it when I fucked him, when I made him scream for more, didn’t he-”   
  
“Enough,” Alex snarls, slamming his hand down on the table. “I won’t have you talking about him-”   
  
“Why?” Artem asks, voice like honey. “Why are you so intent on burying what happened? Pretending that he was innocent in all this? Because let me tell you,” The wicked smile returns to his face. “He wasn’t innocent at all, he was like putty in my arms, didn’t even have to use the drugs to subdue him-”   
  
Alex snarls as he grabs Artem’s handcuffed arm and begins twisting it, which only serves to make the Russian grin wider. “That’s it, Alexander, give in to your anger...you know that he’s been to see me don’t you?”   
  
“You’re a filthy liar, Markelov,” Alex spits in Russian. “He wouldn’t come within two feet of you,”   
  
“Why would I lie?” Artem says, leaning in closer, his breath dancing over Alex’s cheek. “Why would I pretend that he was here? He came to see how I was doing, sat in the same spot you did, told me he was sorry,”   
  
“You always lie, you always have,” Alex mutters, shaking his head. “He wouldn’t go near you, not when he knows the type of person you truly are,”   
  
“You know, this is all very interesting,” Artem says, hiding a yawn behind his hand. “But I’m tired of this whole Mitch Evans is an angel business, because we both know it’s not true at all,”   
  
“Mitchell Lynn,” Alex says, eyes narrowed.   
  
“Oh yes, forgive me, that old archaic way of possessing someone by making them take your last name,” Artem says, inspecting his fingernails.

“He wanted to,” Alex says, hating how weak his voice is.   
  
“Of course he did, sweetheart,” Artem purrs out. “You know, he sat where you were, crying his eyes out,” His cuffed hand slides over to Alex’s, brushing over the skin for a second. “I held his hand, stroked over his skin, told him I could make him feel better,” He smirks as Alex recoils, pulling his hand away as though it burns. 

“Don’t touch me,” Alex snarls.   
  
“You never did say why you were here, Alexander,” Artem purrs, ignoring the Brit’s cold words. “Did you miss me? Did you want me to come and show you a good time? Did Mitch ask for me, does he miss my cock inside him-”

  
“Mitchell is missing,” Alex cuts in, his eyes on the table in front of him, teeth clenched.   
  
Artem’s smirk immediately disappears from his face. “Missing?” He says, his eyes full of concern. “What do you mean, missing?”   
  
“He’s disappeared,” Alex says, his voice tight. “And we’ve exhausted all our leads...Mitch’s father suggested we ask for your help. If it were down to me, you’d still be rotting in here,”   
  
Artem raises an eyebrow. “Why should I help you?”   
  
“You shouldn’t,” Alex says quietly. “And you probably would rather kill yourself than help me,” He pauses. “But I know how much Mitchell means to you, he could be in trouble and I know you won’t take that chance,”   
  
Artem worries his lip. “What do I get in return for being your sniffer dog?”   
  
“My father-in-law is offering a sizable amount of money-” Alex begins but Artem shakes his head, dismissing his words with a shake of his hand.    
  
“I have no need for money, Alexander, you know this,”   
  
“Your freedom,” Alex interrupts.    
  
Artem sighs heavily. “Fine,” He says, the gleam returning to his eyes. “I will do it, for a price of course-”   
  
“What price-” Alex begins but Artem silences him with a finger against his lips.    
  
“Get me out of this godawful thing first,” He says, smile playing on the corners of his lips as Alex’s hands slowly move down to curl around Artem’s wrist. The Russian grins widely as Alex unlocks the handcuff, the metal sliding away from his pale wrist, red marks ghosting over the white skin. Alex is about to ask for Artem’s price when the Russian seizes him by the wrist, the smirk wide over his face as he slams Alex against the wall.    
  
“What the-” Alex begins as Artem leans in, breath dancing against the Brit’s cheek as he struggles. Artem’s hand is still pressed against Alex’s pale wrists, pressing them to the wall, the smile growing wider as he struggles.    
  
“Quiet now, Lynn,” Artem purrs against his ear. “I’m not going to kill you,”   
  
“What are you playing at-” Alex begins, only to be silenced by Artem’s lips against his own. He struggles at the contact, struggles to push the Russian away but Artem growls against his skin, biting down hard on his lip as he forces his knee in between Alex’s thighs. His tongue pushes past the crease of Alex’s lips, smiling as he hears the Brit groan - half in pain, half in pleasure - his tongue swirling over Alex’s, forcing their bodies lax against the wall.   
  
“Always wanted to snog you, Lynn, see what Mitchy thought all the fuss was about,” Artem hisses with a smirk, feeling Alex’s hard dick against his knee.    
  
He can taste the blood on his lips - the metallic taste hanging in his mouth - as he feels Alex slowly begin to respond to the kisses, moaning into the contact. Kissing Alex is much different than kissing Mitch, Artem reasons. He doesn’t have to bend down, Alex is rougher and harder around the edges, kisses back with frightening passion, fights to push his tongue against Artem’s. The Russian presses into Alex’s thigh with his knee, eliciting a moan from the Brit before he bites down again on his lips, sucking hard as the taste of blood hits his tongue. He pulls away, his hands still pressing on Alex’s wrists as they gaze into each other’s eyes.  He smiles at the blood on Alex’s pale lips, on the dark eyes, on Alex’s chest heaving from the exertion.   
  
“Guess we better get going huh, sweetheart?” Artem teases, smirking.    
  
“But what about your price?” Alex says, his voice slightly hoarse, eyes wide.    
  
“I just collected it,” Artem says, winking, as he turns on his heel and saunters over to the door. “Ready when you are,  _ ace _ ,” 


	32. Could i have this kiss forever [Max/Pierre]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max meets a boy with a pair of striking blue eyes at his uncle's engagement party, and he's not letting him leave without a name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emma here! So i was thinking about how Max and Pierre could first meet considering their familes despise each other and of course it had to be during Dany and Carlos' engagement party! Warnings for blow jobs but it's Bratva so do i really have to give warnings out? I put the longer translations in brackets since i find that easier than putting in the notes, but the smaller ones don't have them so if you want to know just google ;) I hope you all enjoy! :)

It’s not like Max even _wants_ to be here, sure the ballroom was nice – though he still questioned why his grandparents had _a fucking ballroom_ in their manor  - with its white and silver ribbons draped across photographs of his family, the low lights from the chandelier, hell, even in the candelabra looked more expensive than Max’s entire outfit. He’s still unsure _why_ he’s even here, it’s not like he’s particularly close to his uncle, and he’s pretty sure it was his father (or Daniil’s brother, whichever was easier) begged him to let Max come.

It was fine at first, he’d been with his father and grandparents, happily discussing business related nonsense – and yeah, maybe Max _did_ have to pretend he had a clue what his family were talking about. But it was nice to spend a little time with them without the need of being coated in blood or shaking with a handgun. He looks over his father as he speaks to Christian, the silver specks of hair a little harder to pick out in the blonde locks – compared to his Dad anyway – but they’re still there, and there’s a couple of wrinkles beside his eyes which Max is _pretty sure_ he caused.

They soon disappear though, his father hugs him slightly, his grandparents tell him to stay out of trouble before they’re gone, and Max is left alone once again. He downs the rest of his champagne, slightly bitter on his tongue though the sweetness soon starts to poke through, before he decides to find someone to dance with – and more than likely take back to his bedroom, god knows he needs a fuck.

But of course, it’s the women that turn up the charm, their hands lingering on his shoulder a little longer than usual, fingers brushing against the corner of his golden mask, whispering _where he could find them_ before sauntering off with a wink. He knows what they’re up to though, it would be quite the statement to inform their fathers they’d slept with a Prince of the Bratva, and then of course, he’d be set to marry them and Max _really_ is not ready for that.

He briefly thinks about Carlos as he twirls another girl around the floor, not really paying attention to the way she moves closer to him, slips her hands around his neck. He’s not seen the boy in a long time, remembers when they’d last spent a night together and had to stop this little _affair_ they’d been having. Max does find himself missing the heir to the Galega sometimes – he’s not had any closeness since Carlos, no one to wake up to or press into the sheets.

Max almost stumbles over his own feet when he catches the gaze of a pair of beautiful bright blue eyes. The girl in his arms giggles, makes some joke about him _having two left feet,_ but he’s too mesmerized by the boy on the other side of the room to pay much attention to her. He’s got a beautiful white and gold mask across his own face, the gold metal swirling slightly by the sides, the diamonds shining in the light. He smiles at Max, takes a sip from his champagne flute before his gaze is suddenly filled with the girls face as she kisses his cheek before the song ends. When he looks back to the spot, the boy is gone and Max sighs quietly, definitely in need of more champagne.

\-----

He’s feeling a little tipsy now, even from the small glasses of champagne – but this is _Daniil_ he’s talking about, so he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d slipped a drop of vodka or something just as strong into it. Max reaches out to pluck another glass from the fountain – and he’s still surprised the glasses are standing – but his hand knocks against someone else’s and the glass almost slips from his fingers ( _thank god for the quick reflexes,_ he thinks)

“ _Max Verstappen,_ it’s quite the honour”   
He glances up at the sound of a soft voice, and is slightly – but gladly – surprised to meet the same pair of striking blue eyes from before. He struggles to find his words for a moment; the boy is even more _beautiful_ up close, his pink lips parted slightly and his bright blue eyes staring straight back at him. He smiles, does a mock courtesy before reaching out to take hold of Max’s hand.

“I-you don’t have to, y’know the formalities-“  
Max starts, but the words won’t come to his tongue and he’s never been so embarrassed in his _fucking life._ It’s hard carrying the weight of the Bratva, trying to live up to what his parents want him to be and not just _break down_ when a cute guy tries to talk to him. The boy laughs slightly, and god if it’s not the sweetest thing he’s heard all night.

“I’m in the presence of a _Prince-“  
_ He doesn’t like that word, being known as a Prince, but the way it rolls off the boys tongue, his accent curling around the letters, yeah maybe he _could_ get used to it.   
“-I thought formalities would be a given”

Max shakes his head, still struggling to pull himself together. It’s hard when he’s had women over him all night, when he’s clearly not interested, and then suddenly having to work the charm on a _drop dead gorgeous boy he doesn’t even know the name of_.

“Not when my parents aren’t about, I haven’t seen you around before, friend of my uncles?”  
He sighs slightly in relief when he manages to find his voice again, his eyes watching as the boy brings the glass to his lips, takes a mouthful of the sparkling liquid before smiling again.

“I’m a- I guess you could say _old friend,_ of Carlos and his family”   
The boy says, the hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, like he _knows_ something Max doesn’t, that he’s hiding something. But prying never got him anywhere when it came to sex and either he’s reading too much into this or the look the boys giving him is _definitely_ a sign. The music stops for a moment, before something that is distinctively Spanish filters through the room. _Trust Carlos._

“Do you know how tango Max?”  
The boy asks, holding his hand out to Max, smirk still tugging at the corner of his lips. Max gently takes his hand between his, his own lips quirking up into a smile.

“What kind of prince would I be if I didn’t?”

\-----

“So, _Maximilian,_ what has a prince like you been getting up to?”  
He says, and yeah there’s definitely a flirty undertone in his voice. Max smiles, his hand curling around the boys waist, the other clasping them together. He smiles back at Max, squeezing his hand as his own fingers rest against his shoulder, tickling slightly against his neck. For the first time that night, its Max who manages to surprise someone – he pulls the boy flush against his body, smirking slightly when he pulls a small gasp from his parted lips before he slowly starts to lead, the music soft in his ears.

“Conducting deals, sending off shipments, playing with my toys, just the usual things”  
Max says, his smile widening slightly when the boy almost trips as he spins him, but he manages to keep himself on his feet, his hand curling around Max’s neck when he pulls him back.

“Does that include, oh y’know, _les gens putains dans vos draps_ (fucking people into your bedsheets) _”  
_ Max bites his lip, _so he’s French_. He’s a little rusty with the _language of love,_ but spending almost a year in Paris with Carlos on _business_ did have its perks.

“ _Je ne peux pas dire qu’il fait_ (I can’t say it does)”  
He replies, smirking when the boy seems a little shocked at the response. But his own smirk is soon back, his hands tighten against Max slightly as he leans onto his tiptoes, lips brushing against his cheek before settling against his ear.

“ _Ainsi, nous pouvons changer cela_ (well, we can change that)”   
That’s enough for Max, he doesn’t think about anything else, that the boy could easily be an assassin, or that he could be trying to get some inside information. He _needs_ him, and he’s not going to wait any fucking longer. And thankfully, the boy doesn’t protest and try to flirt or rile him up anymore. This is going to be a _great_ story to tell his brother.

\-----

Max slams him against the back of his door the moment they’re upstairs, wrists pinned above his head and his knee between the boy’s legs. He uses his free hand to reach up to his face, fingers brushing against the silver mask before the boy shakes his head.

“ _No,_ keep it on”  
He says, tongue swiping out across his parted lips, and _that_ snaps him. He’d hold back if he could, tease him a little more but _fuck,_ he can’t help himself. Max winds his fingers into the boy’s hair, tugging on it gently before he presses their lips together. He can taste the champagne against them, feel the boys tongue pressing against his own lips. Their teeth clack against each other slightly as Max moves his head, a mumble of _sorry_ before he flicks their tongues together. He’s soft, softer than Carlos ever was, and it makes a nice change to feel like the one in control for once.

He pulls away slightly to trail his lips down the boys skin, smirking against his jawline when he whines softly. Max loosens his grip from around his wrists, his hands brushing against the material of his suit before they slip down to curl into the belt loops and pulls their hips together. He can feel the boys cock rubbing at the inside of his thigh, the height difference not quite making them rub together.

“So, do I get your name now?”  
Max whispers against his skin, tongue catching the sweat that’s rolling down his neck. He grazes his teeth against the exposed skin, the boy shivering slightly in response before he bites down onto the pale skin, sucks it between his lips. The boy moans out into the warm air, his hands scratching against the material of Max’s blazer.

“Doe-Doesn’t that ruin the mystery though, that _fuck-_ that you don’t know, I mean I could pull a knife on you right now and press it against your throat-“  
Max growls against the skin, bites down harder and pushes his hips against the boys. He hates the fact it turns him on, that his last fuck could be the person that ends his life. It’s both arousing and frightening.   
“You’d love that though, wouldn’t you? If I ran a knife against your throat and licked up every drop of your blood”   
He doesn’t know what overcomes him, he’s never been so _fucking riled up_ in his life. He pulls away, panting from exertion before dropping to his knees – and they’re _definitely_ going to be bruised in the morning. The boy pushes his hand through Max’s hair, his eyes half lidded through his mask, teeth sunk into his bottom lip.

“Can’t say I’ve ever had a prince so _willing_ to do this before”  
He teases as Max reaches up to pull away the belt, his hands shaking slightly. He’s _actually_ going to give someone a blow job he doesn’t even know the name of – which is surprisingly the sexiest thing he’s ever done.

“I’m one of a kind, _amourex”_  
He unfastens the final button, his hands lingering for a little while, watching the boys eyes flutter shut and his head drop back against the door before he gives in. He pulls his trousers down slightly, pressing his nose against the bulge in the boy’s boxers, rubbing slightly which pulls the _most delicious_ moan from his lips. His hands tighten in Max’s hair, pushes his head against his half hard cock.

“ _Max,_ you better start sucking or-“

“Or you’ll _what?_ “  
Max teases back, his lips parting to mouth other his clothed cock. The material is already damp with pre come and he can taste the salty liquid ever so slightly on his tongue as he rubs the flat of it against the bulge.

“I’ll pin you down and _force_ you to suck my dick if I have to”  
He growls back to Max. He can’t help the whine that passes his lips; he loves being in control, but the thought of being _faced fucked_ by someone he barely even knows, goes straight to his cock.   
“ _Oh,_ but you seem to like that don’t you? You’re a filthy whore for a prince”

Max doesn’t reply this time, instead his fingers curl around the waistband of the boys boxers, tugging them down roughly and pushing them down to his knees, enough for his cock to spring free. He runs his gaze along the boys cock for a moment, along the pulsing vein and the clear liquid sticking to the head, before he presses his tongue against the base and _slowly_ drags it upwards. It’s a little awkward with the metal curled around his face – if it was his way he’d of taken off their masks _long_ ago, finally get a proper look of the boy’s face. But the fact he _wanted_ to keep them on, made the whole thing a little more erotic.

“I heard from Carlos that you were, oh how did he put it, _le roi de fellations”_  
Max doesn’t even need to _look_ at the boy to know there’s a smirk on his face and well, he always was one to live up to titles. His eyes flutter shut as he closes his mouth over the tip, swirling his tongue to lap up the pre come. He starts to mumble in French, his voice too quiet for Max to pick up on what he’s saying, but he doesn’t mind, in fact he feels pretty damn proud he’d turned the boy into a mumbling mess.

He slides his mouth lower, the flat of his tongue rubbing against his shaft before he pulls back a little and starts a slow pace, making sure to not take his entire cock into his mouth just yet. The boys hands tighten in Max’s hair, trying to push his head down onto his cock, to press Max’s throat against the tip of his cock.   
“You’re such a fucking _tease_ Max, could get used to your lips around my cock”  
He groans, one of his hands sliding down slightly to cup Max’s cheek in his hand, thumb stroking across the skin and Max moans around his cock.

He’s bigger than Carlos by an inch or so, and _even_ he’s finding it a little hard to take his entire cock into his mouth. But the boy seems distracted enough to not really notice, Max’s hand is working the part he can’t reach anyway, and the moans he’s pulling from the boys lips makes him at least _feel_ like he’s doing a good job. He pushes on Max’s head, and this time he doesn’t fight it as the tip presses against the back of his throat.

“ _Fuck,_ I’m already so close, Carlos-“  
He laughs slightly, trying to catch his breath as Max sucks harder, speeds up his rhythm slightly.   
“Carlos was _definitely_ right; you really are skillful with that mouth”  
He can feel the boys legs shaking slightly beneath his hands, can hear him trying to bite back the moans of pleasure, and Max _knows_ he’s close with the way his cock twitches in his mouth. He only has to run his tongue across the tip and press down a _little_ harder before he jolts underneath Max’s touch, tightens his grip on his hair as he comes into his mouth.

Max flicks his gaze up to the boy, watches his head slide back, his lips part around his name and his eyes flutter shut. He happily swallows down the come the best he can, the liquid thick and sticky in his mouth, the taste not the most pleasant in the world, before he pulls away slightly. He flicks his tongue across the tip, catching the remaining come that’s still sticking to the skin.

He feels the boys hands slide across his face, fingers dancing across the gold of his mask before he presses his thumb into Max’s mouth – and he bites down slightly on it, watching the boy pull his lip between his teeth.

“So, can I _finally_ have your name?”  
Max says a little breathlessly, pulling himself back to his feet and straightening out his suit as he glances down into the boys blue eyes. He leans up to press a soft kiss against Max’s lips, lingering there for a moment before gently pulling away.

“Pierre”  
And Max can only watch after the boy – after _Pierre –_ as he saunters out of his bedroom, leaving the prince with a smile across his face.


	33. And I'll hold you close [Max & Mitch]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max has something to tell his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while hasn't it? I don't want to say much on this but I have to warn there's lots of implied non-con in this, so if anything along those lines triggers you please don't read this. Otherwise enjoy :)

Max keeps telling himself that it's his fault; that if he'd gone out with protection, or even just stayed home like he should of, this wouldn't of happened. And he hates himself for that. Hates how he was such an easy target, hates the title he carries with him. _Hate. Hate. Hate._

The tears are drying on his face, but the rain is pounding down making it pointless, making the blood across his forehead turn into a bright red liquid. He had almost forgotten about that - the cut across his head - because all he can think about is _that_. About how much he hates himself, how _disgusting_ he feels.

His feet are barely even carrying him home, the thought of stepping foot on Bratva territory makes him feel undeserving. Max has no idea how hes going to explain this - if at all - to his family. He can already see the looks on their faces, the ' _We told you so_ ' that will come out of his parents mouth. Max shakes his head - he can't tell them, not now.

He gets home quicker than he first thought, and the sight of his home makes him feel just a tiny bit better - he'll be safe and warm, be able to curl up with his brother and play video games like nothing happened.

The guards open the gates straight away, not asking any questions as Max heads up the steps to the front door. Deep breaths, he tells himself, curling his hand around the handle and pushing open the big wooden doors. Thankfully, the lights are off downstairs, and Max can guess his parents will be in their study or off doing something else.

He takes the stairs two at a time, wincing each time. He's still sore, the bruises so tender across his hips and thighs. Max doesn't know why he goes to Mitch's room first - for comfort maybe, or the fact his brother won't turn him away no matter what.

The lights are off in Mitch's room - had it really gotten that late? But Max doesn't let that stop him, he flicks the light on, heads over to Mitch's sleeping body, and shakes him awake. Mitch groans, tells him to fuck off, before his eyes slowly flutter open and meet Max's.

He jumps up almost instantly.

"Max? What- why are- you're bleeding" Mitch can't get his words out, which is understandable; despite their reputation, he doesn't make stumbling into his brothers bedroom at 3am in the morning a common thing. He doesn't know what to say, too scared to speak, too scared to sit down, too scared to do, well anything really.

"Maxy, what happened?" Mitch tries again, pulling himself out of bed and sitting up, his hands reaching out to grab at Max's. He can't help it, he flinches away, the incidents of tonight having too much of an effect on him. Mitch looks hurt for a moment, but his eyes soon soften.

"Let's get you cleaned up" Max still can't speak, can't find the words or say exactly what he wants to. So he just nods. It's enough for Mitch though, he smiles and stands up - still tiny in comparison to Max - and keeps their hands together as he heads over to his bathroom.

Mitch has always been so protective of him, and Max has loved that - he's the only brother he's ever had, so it's nice that they have such a close bond.

"Sit," Mitch says, but he doesn't give Max the choice to protest because he's pushing on his shoulders until he's sat on the edge of the bath. He bites his tongue because _fuck_ , it hurts. Max can't even admit to himself why it hurts so much - he just _can't_.

"You gonna tell me what happened now sharky?" Mitch has a gentle smile on his face as he starts to dab away the blood from Max's forehead. The antiseptic stings against his skin, but it's nothing compared to the pain he's really feeling. Everywhere seems to ache, every inch of skin so tender to touch - hell, even his brain hurts. He just wants to shut down for the night and have a few hours rest and deal with the guilt tomorrow.

Mitch can sense something's wrong though, because of the _brotherly connection_ or whatever bullshit he wanted to call it.

"Max? Please talk to me"

"What?" His voice is barely there, and even the quiet tones he does manage are full of fear and regret. It's an embarrassment to be so weak and have the Prince title over his head.

"What happened to you?" Its the fourth or fifth time Mitch has asked that, and Max still can't find the words he wants. There's only three words he needs to say, but it's like saying it out loud to someone, confirms that it did happen and he can't accept that. It's easier just to forget and pretend nothing happened, make sure his family know nothing.

"Alright, I'll stop asking. But let's get you into some pyjamas yeah?" Mitch's fingers grasp at his shirt before Max can say anything, and he's never flinched away from his brother so hard in his life. It shocks him - and Mitch too - his breathing is slightly ragged and he can feel the tears forming in the corners of his eyes again.

"Mitch-" His voice fails him, the tears creeping up and Max is struggling to hold them back this time. Mitch doesn't speak though, he's much more gentle this time when he grabs Max's shirt, and Max doesn't flinch as much when he pulls the damp material off his body.

His gasp makes him jump though, and Max doesn't even know why he's gasping in the first place, until he turns around to glance at himself in the mirror. The bruises are across his waist too, a few dancing across the sides and around his back - he hadn't even realised it had been that rough, though really he tries to not remember anything.

"Who did this to you?" The sheer hatred in Mitch's voice scares even him. Max just shakes his head, and tries to head back to his own room. But this is Mitch, and Max knows how important he is to his older brother, so he's not surprised when he gently grabs at his wrist to stop him.

"Max, tell me what happened, please" Mitch is practically pleading at this point, curling their fingers together and squeezing his hands tight. Max bites his lip, but ultimately he has to tell him, he has to tell someone.

"I- I went out, I was-Pierre wanted to," It's hard. So fucking hard to speak and tell Mitch what happened, but his older brother is patient with him, still looks at him with concerned eyes. He wants to get out of his wet jeans, throw away and burn all his clothes from today and snuggle down in the fluffy joggers Mitch owns - the ones he always steals.

"He wanted to meet up" It's an accomplished to be able to even say a few words without stuttering. He starts to unfasten his belt, hands still shaking and stained with blood - and he's not even sure if it's his blood.

"I-I didn't go out with pr-protection, which is my fault" Max manages to pull his belt away, dropping it to the floor and feeling part of the weight lift off his shoulder as it clatters against the wood.

"It was, I was nearly there - we were going for, for a drive," His hands start to shake again as he reaches for the buttons on his jeans, but the minute they catch against the metal, he freezes up. Mitch looks on with worry, slowly reaches out to touch Max's hand, before he lets his brother unfasten them. It's so fucking embarrassing, he's 19 and can't even take his own damn clothes off, but Mitch doesn't seem to care.

"But so-someone, I didn't see them, it was so dark out but they gr-grabbed me-" He squeezes his eyes shut, wills the tears away and controls his breathing so he doesn't just scream out. Mitch is still slowly pulling his jeans down, the rough and damp material rubs against the bruises and he can't help but to cry out.

The realisation in Mitch's eyes breaks him. He's worried that his brother will hate him, despise him even and be so _fucking disappointed_. He closes his eyes, doesn't say anything else and just lets Mitch finish undressing him. He lets him wash away the blood from his thighs, let's him dress him in the warm pyjamas, and guide him to his bed.

Mitch is being so gentle with him; fluffing up the pillows, making sure the blanket is tucked in around his body, he even disappears off to Max's own room to grab the shark plush he's had since he was a tiny baby.

"Mi-Mitch?" Max finally finds his voice again, once Mitch has the lights turned off and is snuggled underneath the covers next to him. He lifts his arm up, let's Max rest his head against his chest.

"Yeah sharky?" Mitch runs his fingertips up and down Max's arm, his touch so soft and comforting - in fact he's pretty sure he could fall asleep in just a few minutes if he carried on.

"You don't, hate me do you?"

"Why on earth would you think that?"

"I-I've made our family a laughing stock to-"

"Shh baby, you need rest. We all love you unconditionally, and don't ever think this is your fault" Mitch's voice is soothing him in a way, the caring tone and familiar accent make him feel safe - which is exactly what he needs right now.

"You're safe Maxy, I won't let anything happen to you again, I promise" He's still shaking, still sore, still has the bruises to serve as a reminder, but he's home, he's safe with his big brother. And that's all he ever needed.

 


	34. What could of been [Carlos/Mitch]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for all the updates! I'm in the process of moving my fics over to here from tumblr to make it easier for you all to find :)

Carlos pretends to be happy when Mitch - his best friend - flashes the ring to him on his finger, just _days_ after  he’d given his virginity up to the heir of the cartel. He is happy in a  sense, happy that Mitch has a constant smile on his face and is proudly  showing off the ring, the one that Alex had bought him, but it still  leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. 

“You should of seen it  Carlos, he took me out on his private boat and we had champagne and  just, god it couldn’t have been more perfect” Mitch mumbles on as he  happily accepts the next suit he’s given by his father - Sebastian - the  grin still on his face as he slips on the navy jacket.  Carlos had been  invited along, insisting that he had to help pick out a suit because he  doesn’t trust his fathers judgement. 

“What do you think of this one?”Carlos just nods his head in agreement with a false smile, waiting for the day to be over. 

“Carlos, what are-” He  doesn’t let the boy finish - doesn’t let Max speak - and crushes the  words away with his lips, fingers already tugging at his shirt. Carlos  doesn’t know what he’s doing, why he went to Max of all people, deep  down he knows why - but he doesn’t want to believe he’d be that cold. He  leaves bruises across his neck, in places he _knows_ Mitch can  see, places that Max’s older brother will question. He thinks about  Mitch when he curls his hand around Max’s cock, he thinks about his  brown eyes and soft hair when he strokes his hand up and down, thinks a bout his face when he comes and _almost_ whispers his name when he hears Max come. 

* * *

 

“What are you doing up here Carlos?” Mitch says as he finishes fixing his tie. 

“Did i ever mean anything to you? Did taking my virginity mean something or was i just another fuck to you” 

“Carlos i’m not doing this on my wedding day-”

“Just _fucking_ answer me Mitch!” Carlos growls, careful to keep his voice quiet. He knows Mitch’s parents are just outside. 

“Fine! Yes you was, that’s all you ever was to me Carlos, just a fuck like everyone else”

“You took advantage of my feelings for you-" Mitch turns around with a snarl on his face, his fists balled up in anger.

“Yeah well you’re no better are you? You fucked my brother in revenge so you can’t fucking say anything” He  storms past Carlos and slams the door behind him without another word.  His fingers brush against the leather bracelet on his wrist - the one  Mitch had bought him for his 16th birthday. He squeezes his eyes shut to  stop the tears from falling, the pain in his chest not once subsiding  as he thinks of what could have been.    



	35. Stay away [Mark/Seb]

Sebastian looks down at the lock in confusion. His key doesn’t seem to fit it like it did a few days ago, it’s hard to push into the golden lock and it somehow looks different than before. He shakes his head of the silly thoughts and heads around the side of his home, the fence is thankfully open and Sebastian manages to slip through into the back garden. He can hear his 4 year old son laughing in the garden, the soft Australian accent of his boyfriend coming from the side.

When he makes it around the side and steps onto the grass, the Australian heat bouncing down against his skin, Mitch stops running about with his water gun and instead runs straight into Sebastian’s arms, clinging onto the German with a happy smile. Mark however, does not have that look on his face when he glances at Sebastian. He brushes it off as just a bad day and heads over to Mark, Mitch still clinging onto his neck with a bright smile.   
  
“Sebastian”  Mark says, his tone is dark and filled with something Sebastian can’t quite place, but he knows he doesn’t like it.   
  
“Yes dear?”  Mark doesn’t reply to him, just reaches out for his son and pulls him from Sebastian’s arms. Sebastian frowns at him in confusion as he takes a step back from him. Mitch reaches his arms out to Sebastian but Mark grabs them instead, forcing the youngster to look away.   
  
“Mark what-”  
  
“Go away. Now”  Sebastian looks at him in confusion; his heart is aching slightly when he sees the look of pure disgust on Mark’s face.   
  
“I don’t understand”  
  
“I never want to see you near me or my family again, and I mean it Sebastian. If I see you on my grounds I won’t hesitate to get the guards to shoot you”  
  


* * *

When Sebastian makes it home just hours later, stood outside his family house with tears streaming down his face, the rain pounding against his back and the cold breeze of Russia smacking against his face, he doesn’t have any idea what to say to his parents. It’s his 13 year old brother who opens the door, sleep clinging to his thick eyelashes as he glances up at Sebastian.  
  
“Sebby? What are you-”   Dany doesn’t finish his sentence, Sebastian cuts him off by dropping to his knees and curling his arms around his brother, screaming out into the night as the tears still fall. He can hear his parents coming down the stairs, a pair of strong arms lift him up off the floor and guide him up to his bedroom.   
  
“Sebastian what’s wrong? What happened?”  Christian says gently, coaxing his oldest son to talk. Sebastian shakes his head slightly, wiping the tears away with the back of his hand and looks up at his father.   
  
“Mark left me, and- and he said I can’t see Mitch again”  Sebastian manages to keep his voice steady when he speaks. Christian doesn’t say anything and just holds his son close, trying to comfort him in any way possible. Sebastian just stares blankly at the wall, unsure whether to cry or scream. When his parents eventually leave, Dany quietly slips into his bedroom, climbing into the covers with his older brother and Sebastian happily let’s him.   
  
“It’s gonna be okay Sebby, we can call Daniel and play video games all tomorrow”  Dany says, his smile evident by the sound of his voice. Sebastian nods slightly in agreement, but the tears don’t stop falling all night, dripping from his eyelashes and dropping onto the pillow beneath him. It’s the first time he’s ever cried himself to sleep.


	36. Dinner party [Toto/Christian]

Christian glares down at the man infront of him, the one he has pinned between a silver bladed knife and the brick wall. The man smirks for a moment, almost as if he’s the one in control before Christian presses the knife against his skin, enough to draw a thin line of blood.  
  
“You’ve let us down one too many times Maurizio, you either give me those fucking guns or I’ll slit your throat”  Christian says, his eyes narrowed, glaring into the Italians eyes.    
  
“Darling you don’t need to kill him, we’re already running late for our dinner party”  Toto’s voice appears over his shoulder, and Christian turns around to see his husband checking his watch, his suit slightly disheveled from wrestling the Italian to the ground.  
  
“I’m sure Sebastian will understand, he’s always been the best son after all”  Christian replies with a smile before he puts his gaze back on the man against the wall.   “If those guns aren’t at my house in the next 6 hours you’re going to be dead”   
Christian growls, releasing his grip from Maurizio and turning around to head back to his husband. He all but knew what the man would do, and in response Christian raises his knife and slashes it across Maurizio’s throat.  The blood splatters against his hand, the dark red blood staining his white shirt and some specks making there way onto his face. Toto sighs and pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, using it to wipe away the blood from Christian’s skin.   
  
“You’ve ruined your best suit now”  Toto says. Christian just rolls his eyes and takes his suit jacket from his husband, pulling it over his shoulders to cover the red stains. There is still blood visible on parts of the shirt, the bright red standing out against the white cotton.   “Now, are you ready for this dinner party?”  
  
“More than ever”  Christian replies with a smile, pressing a kiss to Toto’s cheek and hooking his arm around his husbands as the two happily head up the concrete steps, all thoughts of the dead Italian just meters away from them out of their mind.


	37. Wake up [Dany & Seb]

Daddy?” Dany says softly, opening the door slightly to peer into his parents bedroom. He’d heard the commotion from his own room, heard his Daddy and Papa shouting and cries from his big brother. His daddy whips his head around at the sound of Dany’s voice, Christian’s eyes - so much like his own - staring back at him in worry.   
  
“Dany, go back to your room okay? Don’t come in here” Christian says, his voice shaky and full of panic. Dany doesn’t move however, instead ignoring his daddy’s protests and steps inside of their room. He frowns slightly in confusion when he sees his Papa’s hands covered in blood. He shakes his head and brushes it off - he’s always cutting himself on knives when cooking.   
  
“Darling you need to go outside, I need you to call Daniel and stay downstairs okay?” His daddy’s voice is more worried now, and Dany huffs in response. He wants to know what’s happening, why his parents are so worried and what they’re trying to hide.   
  
“Daddy! Tell me what’s going on you’re scaring me” Dany shouts, his lip pushed out in a pout as he takes a few more steps towards the bed. The words die on his tongue when he sees Sebastian - his big brother - lying across the bed with his eyes closed and his body covered in thick red blood. Dany covers his eyes, his weak knees dropping him to the floor and he lets out an ear piercing scream, tears dripping down his cheeks.   
  
“Dany, Dany look at me” His daddy grabs onto his hands, pulling them away from his face so he can hold his cheeks between his hands. He blinks back the tears and looks at his daddy.   
  
“You need to call Daniel for me okay?” He bites his lip, glancing over his shoulder at his son, before looking back at Dany. He nods his head slightly in response, not giving his daddy the chance to speak before he dashes out the room, stumbling down the stairs slightly. His hand shakes when he picks up his daddy’s mobile from the side, struggling to keep them steady as he presses dial on Daniel’s number.   
  
“Christian?”   
  
“Daniel, daddy said you need to come over”   
  
“Dany what’s wrong? Are you okay?”   
  
“It’s Sebby, he’s hurt”   


* * *

  
Dany hasn’t left his brother’s side since his parents finally let him see him. He’d spent the past few hours in his own room, curled up crying under the sheets and trying to drown out the sobs of Daniel - his brothers boyfriend. He lifts his head slightly, looking up at his brother, expecting to see his bright blue eyes and happy smile. However he’s instead greeted with Sebastian’s sleeping face, his bruised cheek and stitched up lip. Dany pulls himself up into a sitting position, crossing his legs and reaches over to brush his fingers against his brothers cheek.   
  
“Sebby?” Dany whispers softly, praying that his big brother will open up his eyes and pull him into a tight hug, kiss his forehead and tell him it’s okay, that he doesn’t need to worry.   
  
“Please, please, please wake up Sebby” Dany says, tears forming in the corners of his eyes once more. He rests his head against Sebastian’s chest, closing his eyes as he listens to the soft rhythmic beating of his brothers heart, the one thing that’s keeping Dany calm despite everything. He lets out a yawn, snuggling closer against his brother, the stress of the day making him sleepy.   
  
However before he can drift off into a sleep, the door creaks open slightly, and Dany opens one of his eyes to see Daniel’s soft brown eyes looking down at him. He smiles slightly, and sits down on the opposite side of Sebastian, brushing his hair away from his forehead to press a kiss there. Dany closes his eyes again, too tired to speak and cuddles closer against his brother. He feels Daniel’s hand curl around his own, holding it in comfort and that little touch is enough to make him feel better. His big brother will pull through, he just knows it.


End file.
